


Lie to Me

by nymph_L



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake Marriage, First Order, Hux Backstory, Hux lies, Lies, Manipulation, Married Couple, Memory Loss, OOCness, Political Alliances, Political Betrayals, Politics, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Rebel Alliance, Rebellion, Secret Organizations, Slow Burn Romance, Syndicate, You lie, fake marriage becomes real marriage, from enemies to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 05:05:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 95,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14825828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymph_L/pseuds/nymph_L
Summary: Falling for the enemy… That’s probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Letting him live…  for he should be dead. And you should’ve been the one to kill him. You had him, right there… and you let it escape through yours fingers. He lived. And now only the time could tell if you made the right decision — more likely wrong — by saving the amnesiac General of the First Order and telling him he was your husband. [Hux x Reader - Hux x You]





	1. Dead & Alive

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first time writing a story with the reader as main character. I feel like I haven't quite get the hang of it, but let's try!
> 
> English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes you may find. 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl, there you will see more about this fic and the gifs I enjoy making for my stories!

A PAIR OF CERULEAN EYES SNAPPED OPEN IN THE DIM-LIGHTED ROOM.

Its owner tried to sit on the soft surface in which his body rested to no avail. No matter how much he tried, his body would not move; his limbs would not allow him to.    

Focused on your reading, you did not notice the movement until a desperate grunt and a pained gasp reached your hearing. Lifting your eyes from the _datapad_ in which you were reading about some new treatments — for _kriff’s_ sake, the man has been lying on that bed for almost a month now; you even thought there was no chance he would  _ever_  wake up —, you stared at the ginger man with widened eyes.

He was awake.

Part of you did not think that possible to happen. Part of you even expected him to just… _simply die_. It would lessen your guilty, after all you were not the one to kill him — in truth, you tried to save him.

Flying from your seat, you approached the bed — your bed, which you relinquished for his use — and with trembling hands — you could simply not control yourself — you touched his forehead, forcing him to lie back down.

_Good._

The fever was gone. The traces of it, however, remained still in his sweaty and slightly flushed and otherworldly pale skin.   

“Whe…”

“Shhh…” You placed a finger on your lips, indicating he should not force himself to speak. After a month without using his vocal chords — except for screaming a name, _Brendol Hux_ , and asking desperately for the man, whoever he was, to leave him alone and forgive him for his mistakes, in the middle of what you identified as nightmares — it was only natural that his voice would come out coarse around the edges.   

Reaching for the bedside table, you retrieved a bottle with  _vincha_  tea and brought it to his lips. He eyed you with curiosity, blue eyes conveying what his sore throat and broken voice would not allow him to, but accepted the drink, nonetheless.   

“It’s  _vincha_  tea,” you said, holding the back of his head with one of your hands, the other holding the bottle closer to his dried-out lips. “It’ll take away the pain and help you sleep.”

“H-How lo-long?” he managed in his coarse voice; his hand wrapped around your wrist in a desperate grip. It was not enough to hurt you, but it only made you certain that once he was fully healed, he would be much stronger than you could handle. It made you bit your bottom lip nervously and doubt your actions for the umpteenth time.     

“More than three weeks, less than a month,” you replied, forcing him to drink some more. His eyes became heavy, you could tell by the way he started forcing himself to keep them open. “Sleep. We’ll talk when you wake up again.”

Before you were finished, his lids were completely closed, and his grip softened around your wrist.

You let out a tired sigh.

If anything, you were completely tired.

Like dead tired.

Since you rescued him — and you still did not know what came over you to help him; you should have left him for dead, the galaxy would certainly appreciate the gesture — you have not slept a full night. Always worried he would die in your care, always worried he would wake up and kill you.

Not that you were all that against having your life ended. You thought about it more than once. But you would not do it yourself. You did not want to get yourself killed either — the idea of having your life reaped by other terrified you; you have seen it too many times to think of it as a non-traumatic event — but sometimes you wondered how it would feel to go to sleep one night and not wake up anymore.

After having had almost everything you cared about taken from you, sometimes you wondered about why you were the only one to survive countless times. Even if most people took you for fragile and breakable due to your strong convictions of not ending lives — you were a healer; healers saved lives, they did not end them and the idea of taking someone else’s life repulsed you — you were quite strong. The home planet of your family was destroyed when you were but an infant. Your parents thankfully were already on Dantooine when it happened, or else you would have died right there. From there on, you have faced countless Wars — Civil Wars included, it seemed Dantooine would never see and feel peace ever again — and countless new cases of diseases.

That was most likely the reason why you decided to pursue the same profession of your late father and… you bit down your bottom lip, your late husband as well. The very thought of him, taken from you in the very beginning of your marriage, made tears spring to life in your eyes.

Rubbing your nose, you closed your eyes and willed yourself not to cry. Your  _guest_ — if that’s how you could call him; he was in no way a hostage either — would wake up at any minute and as a good  _host_ — for the lack of better term — you should have something for him to eat and then you would sit down and have a long — or as long as his sore throat would allow — talk.

***

You did not have a problem with low self-esteem, but there were days in which you hated yourself. Today was one of these days.

No matter how much you told yourself not to cry, you ended up crying. The thought of your husband — dead and without a proper burial; the body, or rests of what was once a body, never found —, of the millions of lives taken in the horrors of Wars and smaller conflicts with factions inside the planet and even with the Syndicate and the last attempt of invasion probably commanded by the very man that now slept in your bed…

_You should have left him for dead…_

The voice inside of your head hissed and you could not agree more. However…  _However…_ There was no however. By killing him you could avenge the friends you lost and save… only the _Maker_ knows how many lives.

_You should kill him…_

The voice continued. Nevertheless, you were no good with a weapon, except for defending yourself — life in Dantooine made sure that every woman and children knew fairly well how to take care of themselves — and you would not kill him now. If you had to kill him, you should have done it before.

A month before.

With a sigh, you finished the soup you were preparing and was ready to head back to your room when the lights went out. Ever since the First Order tried to invade the planet, the region in which you lived suffered with blackouts. The only place that could not stay without light was the main hospital — or what was left of it.  

Shrugging, you waited for the lights to come back before putting the soup in a bowl. In the darkness, your usually acute senses seemed to sharpen even more. You could hear the beating of your heart and the low grunts your  _guest_ — you did not dare voice his name, last you wanted one of your neighbors to know you were housing the very man responsible for the last, and thankfully unsuccessful attack — let out.

It seemed he was awake yet again.

As if on cue, the lights flickered in a few times until it held. With the bowl in your hands, you entered the bedroom only to find him sitting against the headboard; his shaky and pale arms barely holding him up.

The blanket covering his chest fell to his waist and you could see how heavily he was breathing. He did not attempt to speak this time, instead, he continued to stare at you intensely, his blue eyes thoroughly focused on you. His nostrils flared, probably because of the smell of the soup. Although  _kibla_   _greens_  were highly nutritious and flavorful, you found its smell a bit nauseating.

In small steps you approached the bed and placed the bowl on the bedside table. With indecisive gestures, you adjusted the pillows, so he could rest against them more comfortably.

“I brought you soup,” you announced, not really sure what should be your first words to him. He seemed to have taken your advice to heart and did not attempt to speak as you sat on the mattress and raised the spoon to his mouth.

The thought of caring for an enemy and for an invader as you would for any of your patients made part of you to revolt and your stomach to churn, but you swallowed the sentiment and tried to smile encouragingly at him.     

He did not seem to like to be mouth-feed one bit, but did not fight you. He merely scrunched his nose, like a child, even tilted his head aside in an almost imperceptibly gesture, but tasted the soup, nonetheless. His blue eyes widened a fraction in surprise and his mouth was more compliant the next time you raised the spoon.

This time, a genuine smile curved your lips. It was the same reaction your patients always showed whenever you offered them  _kibla green_  soup. The smell was abominably, but it tasted heavenly.

He ate in silence.

When you were done, you offered him a bottle with water and this time he seemed capable of holding it on his own. You did not let go of it, nonetheless. In three gulps he retreated, resting his head against the headboard. His ginger hair was completely messed up and his face had more facial hair than you had seen in the _datapad_ you retrieved later in the hospital.

You controlled your urge to remove and smoothing a bang from his forehead and stepped back. However, before you could go far — before you could even move away from the bed — he held onto your wrist, making you shift your attention back to him.

It took him a while to speak, as if he was trying to get rid of the coarseness in his voice. When he did, however, you were surprised at how clear — and shocking; they were definitely shocking — his words were.   

“Who am I?”

Silence.

Yet again, you found yourself unable to speak.

He wetted his lips and you found yourself offering him more of the water, which he refused with the hand that was not holding onto you, a bit more forcefully than you would have liked.

“And who…” He breathed through his nose. You could bet his throat burnt with the effort to speak. He tried again, “Who are you?”

That he did not know who he was a surprise, that he did not know you was somewhat a relief. You furrowed your brows, nonetheless. However, nothing could have prepared you for the next words to leave his lips,

“I-I… I don’t re-remember…” He coughed. This time, when you offered him the bottle of water, he accepted it without protest. He drank to the point of having a bit trickling down his chin and his neck. “I don’t remember anything.”

There was silence.  _Sepulchral silence._  None of you dared to speak. In the quiet space, you could hear your heartbeat skipping.  

“You don’t…” You furrowed your brows and wetted your lips nervously. “You don’t remember anything?”

_How come?_

You were at loss… What could you possibly say? You knew almost nothing about him. His surname — he said, more like screamed terrified, his father’s name more than once, so you knew for a fact that he was known as Hux — and given the _datapad_ currently in your possession, his _datapad_ , or of someone that worked with him, you knew he was from the First Order. A General.

_General Hux._

His complete name was Armitage Hux.

That was what you said.

You felt rather stupid as the words left your lips.

“You are Armitage Hux.”

He narrowed his icy, blue eyes at you. You felt a shiver run down your spine.  _Damn,_  he knew how to scare people off.

“I know it,” he replied, almost breathless. He glared at you as if what you said was the stupidest thing he had ever heard.

With your brows furrowed — you did not understand what he meant, but you did understand that he was tired and keeping that conversation in the position he was would not do — you forced him to lie down again; your hands on his shoulders.

He obeyed without question, but as soon as his head hit the pillow, he gripped your wrist again. You knew you could easily break off, but you decided to amuse him a little bit more.

You sat on the edge of the bed, unable to look at him in the eye. You had an idea, but you did not know if you should try it out. If it was even ethical to begin with. While you debated with yourself silently, you busied your free hand by checking his bandages. His side was almost healed, but the gush on his chest would take more time to heal properly. You almost touched him there, but his grip over your wrist tightened and you retreated. His gesture brought you back to the present situation.

It did not mean you would speak. After all, what did he want you to say? You knew almost nothing about him. You knew that he was a General for a dark faction attempting to rule the galaxy very much like the old Empire once did. _A dictatorship._ Not that dictators recognized themselves as such. Every villain saw themselves as heroes, you reminded yourself. A faction that now faced the Rebel Alliance.

And… you also knew that as a General he was most likely responsible for only _kriff_ knows how many deaths. But apart from that, you knew nothing about him.

“The First Order…?” he whispered. His tone was so low, and his eyes were closed, as if he feared your answer. For a moment, you thought that maybe he had just fallen asleep again. His bluish eyes snapped open and he stared at you expectantly.   

“What is the last thing you remember?” you asked, genuinely concerned. He did not have any terrible bruises on his head when you found him, and you doubted he could have hit it anywhere to cause amnesia.

He furrowed his brows.

He did not know.

He could not remember.

When you last saw, the words spilled from your mouth torrentially. You simply could not stop talking.  

“The First Order attacked you…” You bit your bottom lip. You hoped he would buy it. “They…” Your lips quivered, you felt the need to cry when you thought about the lives lost in that bloody invasion. “They attacked us.”

It was no lie.

The First Order indeed attacked you. They may not have attacked him, but… But they attacked you and attacked people you held dear.

“Impossible!”

His eyes were widened, and his breath came fast. You knew it was getting difficult to breathe. He gasped in pain. Placing your fingers upon his nude chest, you forced him to pay attention to his lungs, till he was able to once again control himself. Bit by bit, his heart rate lowered, to the point it was beating normally again. You were ready to remove your fingers when his hand rested over yours.

“Impossible…” he repeated, holding your fingers.

“You shouldn’t strain yourself.” You tried to get up, but he did not allow. With a tug to your wrist, you fell back on the mattress; both of your hands splayed on his pectorals. He inhaled sharply, and you adjusted yourself in order not to hurt him.

If not for being used to the same situation — it is, seeing men in state of undress —, you would have blushed. However, this was different. And you could not help but notice how his muscles shifted beneath your fingers. He was by no means a muscular man, but it was obvious he trained; there was strength in his hold.

You traced the edges of the wound in his skin and thought that maybe you should prepare more herbs to accelerate the healing and prevent yet another scar from gracing his skin. It is, if he cared at all. Judging from how many others he sported, it did not seem it was his top priority. Or even a concern at all.   

“Why?” he asked, his voice once again coarse.

His blue eyes were focused on you when you lifted yours to look at him. The icy expression on them did seem to have been replaced by curiosity and something… something you could classify was desperation?

Swallowing, you broke free from his hold.

“We should talk tomorrow.” You placed the blanket back on its place. “You should sleep and regain your strength.”

He shook his head.

“Now.” His voice was imposing, as if he was used to command people around him. And you thought he probably did. As a General, he was most certainly used to give orders and  _to_   _be_  obeyed. “Why?”

You almost questioned back,  _Why, what?_  but you held your tongue.

“Why would the First Order attack me?”

Once again, you did not think, the words merely left your mouth. Lying never came so easy to you, yet, you felt compelled to keep telling those fables, in hopes he did believe them and… You did not know what you did expect to achieve by telling him those made up stories.

“Because you…” You thought about the word betrayed, but it felt wrong on your lips. You decided to try another, “…left them.”

He seemed keen on saying  _Impossible_  again, but he held himself back.

There was silence for a moment, as if he was contemplating his words. You knew almost nothing about him, but you knew that — thanks to his _datapad_ ; _was it even his?,_ you did not think someone as a general would store information about himself that could be used against him. It would be outrageously stupid to fabricate evidence against oneself, so you decided that it belonged to someone who wanted to get rid of him.  _For good_ — he had an abusive father — if the scars in his body and the bloody screams with which he woke up you for several nights in a row were of any indication, he would have plenty of reasons to want to leave the First Order —; a prick who left his mother away for dead and raised him not as his only heir —  _his son_  —, but as some kind of animal that did not deserve any respect or even love.

You still remembered how much you cried when you read the files. There was so much more in there that you did not even want to think about it right now.

The very thought of crying for him — over his pathetic life — made you want to snort.

“Please…” you begged, your voice breaking. You felt stupid for feeling so much empathy for the enemy. _He was a monster._ And you should not feel sorry for a monster. “You need to rest.” You sniffed. “We will talk tomorrow.”

This time he did not shake his head, instead, he brought one hand to your face, wiping away the unshed tears forming in your eyes.     

“And who are you?” His voice was barely audible given how loud your heart was beating.  

_…Your enemy…_

_…And I should’ve killed you…_ the voice inside your head completed.

You shook your head and drew in a sharp breath.

_…Please, forgive me…_

“Hux…” You wetted your lips. “(Y/N) Hux. I am your wife.” Your voice came out as coarse as his, as if your tongue burned at the damned words. The need to cry was almost overwhelming now. “You… You are my husband.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, welcome to the first chapter of Lie to Me. This fic will be updated once a week, fifteen days at most.
> 
> I just wanted to tell it's based on 2016 kdrama "Goodbye Mr Black", which started very good but was not handled very well. It's canon divergence and starts off before the ending of TFA. It'll follow the events of TLJ, but not right now.
> 
> Hux will be OOC in the first chapters. Sorry xD but it has to be done. Sometimes his demeanor will resemble that of Domhnall's 2013 movie "About Time", if you guys haven't seen it, please do xD
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl, there you will see more about this fic and the gifs I enjoy making for my stories!
> 
> It'll probably be a Explicit story, but right now I won't rate it, because it won't happen in this very beginning xD
> 
> EDIT: This chapter was edited on July 7th, 2018.


	2. Lies & Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falling for the enemy… That’s probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Letting him live… for he should be dead. And you should’ve been the one to kill him. You had him, right there… and you let it escape through yours fingers. He lived. And now only the time could tell if you made the right decision — more likely wrong — by saving the amnesiac General of the First Order and telling him he was your husband. [Hux x Reader - Hux x You]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys!
> 
> Here I am to update the second chapter of Lie to Me!  
> I hope you like it!
> 
> My biggest thanks to HattoriPornzo and 0MidnightWing for your reviews. I loved it and each one of you who left me kudos or bookmarked my stories. It means a lot to me!

FOR A MOMENT, NEITHER OF YOU SPOKE. HIS SILENCE MADE YOU EVEN MORE APPREHENSIVE. It was obvious he recalled at least a bit of his life — he did recall his father and the First Order — to have some doubts about being married to you would not be that much of a surprise, would it?

Slowly, his hand withdrew from your face and you inhaled sharply, as if expecting him to deny everything you said. Thankfully, he did not seem force sensitive — if you could go by the information on the _datapad_ , he seemed quite averse to it; relying on the military prowess —, for if he were, he would know you were lying. If he did not know already.

“You should sleep,” you said once again, this time hoping he would follow your advice. “We can talk tomorrow, my…”  _Love…_  you would say. At some point, you would have to say it if he were to believe the two of you were indeed married and that was not just some made up story you came up with.

The very thought of using such endearment to him — a stranger, a murderer, your enemy none the less, made you feel nauseated; when you had only used that to your late husband —, so you decided to use what came first to your mind.  _Lord…_ That would do. In most unions in Dantooine, the husband owned the wife, so you figured out he would not find it odd if you decided to call him by such title.     

“Rest now, my Lord…” you finished.

When his blue eyes did not leave you, you had to bite the inside of your cheek to control your urge to scream.

“I promise we will have a long conversation tomorrow.”

His eyes closed this time, but the blank expression on his face did not make you feel any more reassured. On the contrary, you expected him to wake up in the middle of the night and kill you for your lies — half-truths, you corrected yourself. If — and again there were so many  _ifs_  in this entire situation — the _datapad_ was anything to go by, there was indeed someone inside the First Order trying to get rid of him, so when you said they attacked him, it could very well be the truth.

“Did the First Order choose you?”

_Kriffing hell!_

What were you supposed to answer to that?

You decided, for a change, to go with the truth.

“No.”

You wetted your lips and stared at his face. He still had his eyes closed, as if in deep thought.

“Should they?” This time, you were genuinely curious. “Does the First Order always choose with whom their assets should get married?”

He opened his eyes, staring intensely at you. He did not have enough time to try to raise his chest from the bed; you placed your hand on his firm skin, pressing him down.

A hiss escaped his lips as you made contact with his still unhealed wound.

“You never… Never spoke much about the First Order…”

You only hoped he did not catch the trembling in your voice. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep that lie — and you had only started it.

_Get a grip of yourself, (Y/N)!_

“I see…” he mumbled to himself and you took the opportunity to bring the blanket to cover his nude chest.

“Now, you really should rest, my Lord.”

Your anxiety skyrocketed when you left the bedroom, put the utensils in the sink and let your trembling legs slither to the floor. The lights flickered in and out again, till everything went black. Senses once more sharpened, you could hear his breathing as he apparently slept in the chamber beside the kitchen.

Your house was small, and the rooms were all close together. There was no luxury and the few furniture you still had — most of it you took to the Hospital; there were people who needed them more than you did — were old and worn out. Not very fit to welcome a General of the First Order.

The very thought made you smile.

It was all so ridiculous.

_You should’ve killed him…_

This thought did not leave your mind. And even if the idea of murdering someone in cold blood repulsed you, you knew it was probably the right thing to do. How many more lives would he take if he recovered his lost memories? And you bet he would recover them sooner than you expected.

What was one life close to millions? _Billions, even._

Tired, you closed your own eyes and rested your head against the pillar of the sink. You did not expect sleep to find you so soon.

***

You woke up the next morning with the sound a hiss and something crashing on the ground — a glass, perhaps? or so you thought. With blurred eyes and confused about your whereabouts — it was not usual for you to wake up on the floor — you walked to the bedroom, only to find your…  _husband_ — the word brought a bitter taste to your lips — trying to get up from the bed.

The need to roll your eyes was huge, but you schooled your features and opened your mouth to ask what he thought he was doing, however, you were interrupted by him and an aggravating question, “Where did you sleep?”

You opened your mouth twice to explain, but the words failed you. If you were married, it was expected that you slept on the same bed. However, due to his condition, it was obvious you were not to share such a small mattress with him, unless you both hoped to worsen his already fragile condition.

Of course, he did not buy your explanation and simply dismissed it with his hand as he sat on the bed. His arms shook with the exertion. You forgot the  _quarrel_ — could it be called as such? It was obvious he did not like what you said — and rushed to his side, aiding him to rise.

“I need a bath,” he said, and you could not help but notice his voice sounded much clearer than the night before.

You nodded. No one could say you did not agree with him. In this past month you had cleaned him with wet tissues, but he weighed more than he looked, and you were afraid of opening his wounds if you moved him too much.

With no help whatsoever — no one in the village knew he was your guest; you feared their reaction to the news that would come sooner or later —, you had to improvise.

It did not mean he stank, but he did not sport the most pleasant of scents either. He seemed repulsed by his appearance in general and bothered with how he smelled — if how he scrunched his nose was of any indication, it is.

With a barely concealed smile, you placed his arm on your shoulders and guided him to the armchair in which you usually slept. The flimsy blanket and pillow were still tossed carelessly, with you having no time whatsoever to rearrange anything before the abrupt wake up call.  

“This is where you have been sleeping.” It was no question. His arms were on the armrests, his eyes watching every part of the small house with rapt attention.

You usually did not bother yourself with how your house looked — you spent very little time in it anyways and there were more people out there who did not have half of what you owned, however little it was — but his scrutiny made you feel slightly uncomfortable.

Remembering he had asked you a question or something close to it, you replied on your way to the refresher, “Not tonight, my lord.”

There was silence while you drew the bath. It did not matter how poor the entire planet was after so many conflicts and Wars, it still did have much water — you had heard of invaded planets who had Factions controlling the water and distributing it as if _Kyber Crystal_ — and no matter how much poor your house was, the fresher was conveniently furnished. You once had a sonic shower, but you saw fit to give it to the Hospital where it would be put to better use. You always dreamed of having a sonic bath, but you never managed to get one. It would be handy now, if you had one. Your  _husband_ would have to be contented with a bath and, when he could stand on his legs by himself, the shower.   

When you felt the water was warm enough to relax his sore muscles, but not too hot to burn his skin, you walked back to the bedroom and found him assessing his injuries.

It did not take him long to focus those impossibly blue eyes on you.

“How long have we been married?”

_Kriffs!_

That you were not expecting.

You opened your mouth, but all reasoning seemed to have left you. And here you were worried the General would complain about the lack of a sonic shower and bath in the fresher.

His voice surprised you yet again and the reasoning contained in his words left your mouth hanging open.  

“By my counts, we couldn’t have been together for more than measly three years.”

“Three and half, my lord,” you replied, looking at the floor.

Considering both of your ages and how long you were widowed, it seemed a fair reasoning. You just had to remind yourself of such assertion in case he ever asked again or anyone around you did.

“And that’s the state of this…” His eyes left you and roamed the surroundings. You felt your face warming up with embarrassment. Truth be told, you knew how to repair most of what needed to be repaired, but you did not have time nor energy to do so. “…of _our_ house?”

You did not know what to make out of his words. Was he ashamed because it usually fell on the husband’s shoulder to take care of the house or because he had to live — temporarily, you added that as it would make you less guilty — in such uninhabitable place?

He tried to get to his feet again and this time he roughly managed to, his arms placed against the wall, holding most of his weight.

“Let me help you, my Lord.” With one of his arms around your shoulders, you sustained him. He was a tall man, you noticed it now. Even leaning on you, he still towered. You wondered how taller he would look when he could stand up by himself. “You are still bedsore, my Lord. I believe you will be able to walk by yourself by the end of the week.”

“Unacceptable.”

His answer caught you off guard and made you furrow your brows.

“Two days at most.”

You did not comment that after receiving injuries such as his, it would be almost impossible for him to be around and about in only two days and instead concentrated on helping him to enter the refresher.

It was the next action that caused you to stop on your tracks. You swallowed. His trousers would have to be removed at some point and there was no else around to help you. Or help him.

You drew in a sharp breath and moved your hands to his trousers, only to have them gently pushed away.

_Oh, thank the maker!_

Without looking at him; your eyes conveniently stationed at his shoulders, you helped him enter the bathtub and turned your back on him immediately, part of you screaming that you would not go far on that lie if you refused to look at him in the eye — or naked. The other half only guaranteed it was the right thing to do. He was a stranger — and even if he were your husband, without his memories, he was basically a stranger — and as such you should preserve his privacy, even from yourself.

Yes.

That made sense.

“Where are you going?”

Errr…

He  _was_   _not_  supposed to ask that.

“Make breakfast?” You bit your bottom lip and asked — hoping, praying,  _whatever_ , for a negative answer, “Do you…” You told yourself to breathe. “Do you need help, my Lord?”

His lack of answer was answer enough.

_What a relief._

You let yourself exhale slowly and squared your shoulders to exit the fresher. You did not go that far, however. His voice sounded loud and clear in your ears.

“I do expect you to return to our bed tonight.”

The reply was automatic. Without him staring at you with those icy blue eyes, it was easier to voice your opinions and disagreements.

“It would only worsen your condition.”

Noticing that perhaps it came out a bit harsher, you added “my Lord”, something that would become customary in the future.  

He took a while to respond, and it was all that took for you to leave the fresher. His voice, however, caught you in your way to the kitchen.

“I have survived worse.”  

***

You were not surprised to find out he could, indeed, stand on his legs in two days — even if it was with the help of an improvised cane, he was walking around and about. If anything, it only made you realize that your enemy was a powerful and dangerous man; that he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

The two of you were currently in the kitchen, sharing a meal in silence — you would not come to label it as comfortable, but it was not awkward either. Your eyes were cast down and his were focused on your face.

He chewed the food slowly, taking his time. Now you knew he was not scrunching his nose at the smell. At one point everyone gets used to  _Kibla Green._

Carefully, you raised your eyes from your bowl and ran them over his frame. He almost made you choke when you realized he caught you staring.

Face scorching hot, you shifted your attention back to your food.

Last night had him querying you about his clothes. They were absolutely not his style. Not to mention they did quite not fit him.

He was slimmer than your husband — the only and one — and taller. As a result, most of the clothing was simply not his match. Too large and too small at the same time.

Not that hungry anymore, you just toyed with the food in your bowl, not very keen on finishing it. A billion of thoughts ran through your head, all of them aggravating. The worse, however, was that nasty, nagging feeling that he knew somehow.

His questions only added to this sensation and darkened your mood. He would question just about everything. You were almost pointing out that he was paranoid — not that he did not have reasons to be. You knew that one did not reach the position of General of the First Order by trusting everyone. However, you thought that given his current state, you should be the one he would trust the most.

It was just infuriating that he didn’t!

You bit the inside of your cheek. You had to come up with some idea to make this situation a bit better. To make him believe you.

Noticing that he had finished and that you yourself could not eat anymore, you picked both of your bowls and placed them in the sink. You returned to the table, ready to retrieve the rest of the utensils when he wrapped his hand around your wrist.

Startled, you raised your eyes to his — even with him sitting down and you standing up, you could not say you towered over him — just to find his blue orbs closed.

His shudder was not missed by you, and you lost no time to ask if he was in pain.

“I’ll just clean up this mess and I’ll get a look at your wounds.”

He remained silent; his eyes trained on your lips as you spoke. The hand wrapped around your wrist caressed the inside of your pulse, making your blood pump faster.

You tugged your arm lightly, asking silently for him to let go.

He didn’t.

“My Lord…”

As if he finally heard you, he stood up. Hand still wrapped around your wrist, he pulled you closer. Much closer than proper, much closer than you felt comfortable with.

You tried to calm down your heartbeats and reminded yourself he thought he was your husband.

It all gone to waste when he lifted your chin; his right hand on the small of your back, tracing it with small strokes.

You shuddered.

He bowed his head and closed the gap between you.

_Kriffs!_

You closed your eyes.

His breath caressed your face.

You heart was on the verge of escaping your mouth.

Another shudder.

You could almost feel his lips on yours.

His tips held your chin firmly in place, but not enough to bruise. He was almost…  _gentle._

Your heart beat faster now.

His lips were almost grazing yours.

_Even closer now…_

His lips skimmed your cheek and later your chin.

Your chest heaved.

When you finally could not take it anymore, you mumbled.

“Please…”

You did not know what you were begging for. Was it for him to kiss you at once or for him to break apart?

He seemed to take it for the second and stepped away.

You shuddered again when his warmth was no longer engulfing you.

Slowly, you opened your eyes only to find him staring back at you; an unreadable expression on his bluish orbs.

“Don’t we have a protocol droid?”

He traced your lips with the tip of his finger.

You gasped.

And totally forgot his question.

He leisurely smoothed his index finger on your bottom lip. You felt your mouth growing dry and subconsciously tried to wet it. Only to have your tongue caressing his skin.

This time, both of you shuddered.

Eyes widened, you broke apart and put some distance between your bodies. He straightened his back and looked at you, as if expecting your answer.

Furrowing your brows, you wondered what he did ask in the first place.

“The droid,” he offered, eyes once again focused on you.

The protocol droid.  _Right!_

“We did have one,” you said, trying to control your breath. Once again, you decided to go for the truth. Or the half-truth. “But I decided give it to the hospital. They would put it to a better use.”

“I see,” he replied, both of his hands crossed behind his back.

In this position, he seemed very almighty. In fact, he looked like the very general you had seen in the _datapad._

A minute or two passed in silence and you found yourself unable to control your nerves and get it done with the utensils.

He had almost kissed you.

And you stood there and let him.

 _Almost_ , you reminded yourself.

But it should not get this far. Not this soon, at least.

 _Not ever_ , part of you thought. The other part knew, however, that one day he would want to do whatever married couples did and how were you supposed to deny him?

You could not go for _‘you’re injured’_ forever; he healed faster by the day. And you could not fake sickness; your health has always been top notch.

Noticing you were shaking completely, you let go of the utensils before you cut yourself and walked back to the bedroom.

He was there already. His back turned to you. He was naked up the waist and the scars on his back — old scars, not the fresh wounds that were about to mark him for good — made you bit your lip.

You stood there for a good couple of minutes, unsure of what to do.

When he turned to face you, you forgot how to breathe.

Clearing your throat, you walked to the wardrobe and retrieved the _datapad._

You were not sure you should do that — _for the maker_ , you were not even sure you did the best by saving him! —, but you knew you had to make him trust you somehow.

And at the moment, you could not come up with better solution.

You walked to him and slowly reached out, offering the _datapad_. He did not take it immediately and no word left his lips, but his expression made it all clear he wanted to know what that was.

You wetted your lips.

“I found it in this newest attack…” You looked at his eyes, he was staring at you rather intensely. This time you touched him out of your own volition. You drew his hand into yours and placed the _datapad_ between his fingertips. It was a dangerous bet, this one you were betting on. He could read whatever files he would find there and only the maker could know what more. But you had to try. “I-I… It belonged to the First Order.” His eyes went cold at your words. “And I think it’s time for you to have it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you have liked it!  
> Till next week xD
> 
> And feel free to tell me what you think and leave me suggestions. Any criticism is very much welcomed. 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl, there you will see more about this fic and the gifs I enjoy making for my stories!


	3. Hot & Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> I almost didn't have this chapter ready by today, but here it is. I've worked my ass off this week and I'm very tired and I'll probably sleep the weekend away, so I decided to wake up earlier today and finish it.  
> It'd be completely different, with more action and more plot, but I decided it should be left to the next chapter... so here you have it, Hot & Cold.
> 
> My most humble thanks to Yuukinna, 0MidnightWing, Lyn and Sis8eneg for your reviews. I love you, guys! To those who have left kudos and bookmarked this story, I love you as well! I'm so excited whenever I get a kudo, bookmark your reviews, you have no idea.
> 
> In time, this chapter is a gift to sassmasterjedi. You know why xD

It made you nervous.

The idea of sharing the bed after so many years. It was not only due to the fact he was a stranger — he seemed less of an enemy at each passing day.

At first, you thought someone of the First Order would come for him and wipe out your planet of the galaxy. Then, you thought he would kill you after he woke up and lastly you were certain he did not believe you and would have you killed for lying.

In each scenario you ended up dead.

Instead, he seemed taken by the datapad. He was so concentrated, he did not pay any attention when you stopped in front of him and handed him a mug with hot tea.

You cleared your throat.

“My Lord?”

The title made him shift his eyes back to you. He did not move from his seat, neither to take the mug, nor to go to the bed.

“It’s time I check your bandages.”

He ignored your statement completely and asked; his eyes narrowed, “Where did you get it?”

You bit your bottom lip.

“Close to where you were attacked.”

He placed the datapad aside and rose to his feet. This time you did not try to help him. His movements were still a bit stiff, but he did not accept your help anymore.

“Tell me…” He took the mug. “How did they attack us?”

You did not know what to say. Or what he wanted to hear, actually. Should you go for the truth?

“(Y/N…)”

You busied yourself with your own mug.

The truth it is.

“I don’t really know… I was at the Hospital that day and it was hectic as always. Dantooine is pure calamity and…” You took a pause to drink more of your hot tea, mimicking him. All this time his eyes did not leave you, as if accessing you for the truth. “But then it became more hectic than usual. Then there were explosions. Lots of explosions.” Thus far, you told him only the truth. “I knew we were being attacked again.”

He set his mug aside, approaching you. You had to bite your tongue before you told him to stay back. It would simply not do if he made you giddy by simply staring back at you or get closer to you.

“I knew they came for you.”

And that was the lie.

He looked at you, as if expecting you to continue.

“And I wish I came for you.”

“Why would you come for me?”

His question left you speechless. You knew you had to touch him — at least at some point you would have to and doing it right now would probably do the trick —, but you simply could not.

“Isn’t that obvious?”

He remained in silence.

You looked down and back at him, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

“You’re my husband… And…” You shook your head. Your words were as valuable as _bantha fodder_. “You don’t believe me.”

It took him a while to reply. You started making the bed. You had to do something in order to distract yourself. All the while you could not stop thinking about finally sharing the bed.

The mere idea gave you goosebumps.

_Good Lord, you almost wished he said he did not want you close to him._

If you did not want to sleep with him before, now you would absolutely not stay in the same place as his.

 _Head back to the hospital_.

If you gave him some space, perhaps he would come to the conclusion he hurt you and would… you did not know… just, _maybe,_ trust you more? Or at least your version of the facts.

You did not know where this scheme and will to manipulate came from, but you wondered if you had another choice.

Telling him that he did attack your planet with that damned First Order of his and that he ended up left for dead by Kriff-knows-who?

_No._

You doubted he would appreciate your honesty. He would most likely repay you by ending your life and causing havoc in your Planet.

The galaxy had already suffered too much with the First Order; if it could lose its General, the better.

 _However_ … if he believed to be your husband and you managed to bring him to hate the First Order… That would be… You trapped your bottom lip between your lip… Their loss and your gain. The Rebel Alliance’s gain.

It is… If you could trust the Rebel Alliance again. You were not on the First Order’s side. A dictatorship was never a good thing, but you could not say you did not see the Rebel Alliance’s flaws. Your husband fell victim to their bureaucracy and greediness — at least from those who lived and ruled Dantooine.

There was good and bad on both sides. Good and Bad guys. You were not a child anymore to believe only one side had bad guys waiting for profit by the worst or do the worst to the galaxy. Every villain believed to be a hero in his own story.  

You have always considered yourself a Rebel, until your husband untimely passed away because of them. Now you were not so sure. Sometimes you wanted to believe yourself to be above all of this. That was an illusion. You knew. Those who decided not to pick a side, were inevitably absorbed by the dominant ideology.

However, even you knew it would be for the best if the General were not with the First Order, if he could help General Leia Organa. As much as you mistrusted the Rebel Alliance you trusted her. Your husband did.

And you always would.

But you only could tell him and tell them when he decided to turn to your side. Till there, you had to make him trust you and right now, you would have to keep the façade of a hurt wife.

 _Leave for the Hospital_ , that is.

That was the only way out, you knew.

He kept looking at you this entire time and when the words left his lips, it was no surprise at all.

“Perhaps,” he replied silently.

Your eyebrows arched, and you gave him your back, heading out of the house.

“Have a good night.”

This time he did not only respond to you, as he did nothing to stop you.

***

When you came back the next day, close to noon, he was sitting at the table, eating something while carefully reading something on the datapad.

You pondered if that was a good idea to give the device to him, but decided to keep the words to yourself. It would simply not do to start the day by questioning him. You were about to say something, greet him and ask how he slept — before you went to bed; you were wasted — when his voice startled you.

“I remember you.”

His words made your heart stop. You closed your eyes.

How could he remember you when you have not even met him? At least you did not — could not — remember ever meeting him.

What was he talking about?

What in the maker’s name was he getting at?

What sort of game was that?

You decided not to give it much thought — even if you were shaking with fear — and turned around, looking for some herbs to make you some tea, only to realize both the tea and lunch were already done.

“Why did you cook? Can you cook?”

He was already behind you, closing the gap between your bodies. Your whole body trembled. You shifted your attention to him. He had his eyebrows arched, as if you just said something stupid, before he placed his hand on your right hip and caressed the fabric lightly.

_Another shudder._

Bells rang in your head.

_Too close._

He was too _kriffing_ close!

You stepped close to the stove and his hand fell limply on his side. A relieved sigh left your lips as you opened the pan and smelled the food. Your stomach growled. You did not know you were his hungry until now.

Ignoring his very existence — it was easier that way —, you brought a bit of it to your lips. Your eyes fluttered close at the same instant.

“Maker, that’s good.”

He had not stepped away from his place and looked at you as if he had taken great offense at the thought that he could do something other than perfect had crossed your mind.

“I have always cooked.”

His words made you stop dead in your tracks.

_Blast!_

Another thing you were supposed to know.

“You sorta…” You bit your bottom lip. “Never did?”

He continued to stare at you as if he did not believe a word you said. You put two bowls in the table and handed you a spoon to him. It was clear that while he had cooked, he had not eaten. Not yet.

Both of you ate in a tense silence. He continued to stare at you, as if you were a great mystery of the galaxy.

“You were in the Galactic Senate.”

You furrowed your brows.

Indeed.

You have been there once. Or twice. With your late husband. Besides being a doctor, he also worked as assistant to Ryloth's Emissary, Yendor once, but it was before the two of you got married. You were only his fiancée back then. Contrary to Yendor, he firmly believed that in spite of the past, Ryloth should abide its sovereignty and join the New Republic. 

“With Aquilla Syndulla.”

Your throat constricted. It was difficult to think about him, even now, after almost five years had gone by.

“Yes…”

The truth was slipping past your lips so easily these days. You reasoned he made it difficult to lie — even more when he knew you.

He knew you.

He _kriffing_ knew you.

Of all the people in the galaxy to have met in the past and have forgotten about you did have to have met him. The great mystery lies in the fact you forgot all about him. How could you? He did not strike as a forgettable man.

He continued to stare at you with those impossibly blue eyes of his. You wondered — and not for the first time — if he could read your very soul, because he certainly seemed capable of it.

“You were his bride…”

“Yes,” you answered not sure where he was headed to.

There was a minute of silence. Or more. You could not know. It seemed hours had gone by. The lump in your throat made it almost impossible to measure time. It made it very difficult to think about anything besides the need to cry.

_Get a grip of yourself!_

“How long were you married to him?”

This time the answer came quickly, as if you did not even think before letting the words slip past your mouth, “Almost two years before he disappeared.”

He lowered his eyes back to his food, brought the spoon to his mouth and shortly after focused his attention back on you. His blue eyes were very intense. And it struck you how different he was from your husband — the real one.

Aquilla had hazel eyes. Always soft. Calming. They had a balm effect. Amirtage Hux’s eyes, on the other hand, were always intense. Always cold. Always… so… penetrating. The effect was not calming. On the contrary. It made you nervous and anxious.   

“I was with my father, Brendol Hux.”

You looked away. As if trying to remember… but no scene of meeting him or his — blasted, miserable — father came to your mind.

Again, how could you simply forget him?

He was a very dominant man. He commanded everyone’s attention. How could someone be in the same room as his and not feel overwhelmed — as you were now — by his overbearing presence?

“While Brendol Hux talked politics with Yendor and your husband-to-be, you and I met in the anteroom.”

It did not escape you how his words were bitter and how his eyes became much colder and angrier when he mentioned his father. Even in your fear, you could not help but feel your heart ache for him. He had such a difficult infancy and adolescence.

You knew almost nothing — except for what was in the datapad; information was currently as good as millions of credits in Dantooine — about the mighty General of the First Order, but you knew something about his father — or about the man your late husband hated, he seldom spoke his name when you were engaged and even less when he left the Rebel Alliance and settled down in Dantooine with you.

He was a cruel, greedy man. A man who would stop at nothing to have what he wanted. Even if meant destroying your husband’s career and reputation.

“I am sorry… I don’t… I don’t remember anything.”

You rose from your chair and placed the tableware in the sink. He stayed in the same place, looking at you as if he did not believe you.

But you were getting used to that.

He never believed you.

He probably would never.

You should just… You did not know… Twist a knife in his guts while he slept? Or give him some poisonous tea?

The mere thought made your stomach churn.

You were not a killer.

You were a healer.

You healed people. Not killed them.

Perhaps you should have never lied. You should have told him you found him as good as dead on the ground and tended to him wounds and that was all. You should have never come up with some story about being married to him.

What did you know about him? What did you know about his likings, beliefs and everything a wife should know about her husband of three years?

You knew nothing.

“You are shaking,” he said, his voice close to your ear; his breath tickling your skin. His hand was once again on your hips, bringing you close to his body. This time you did not fought the physical contact. It brought you some comfort.

As comforting as it could be to realize you were going to die by his hands when he figured out everything.

A bitter, mirthless laughter left your lips. His fingers tightened on your hip in a silent question.

“It’s ironic, you know…” You shook your head. “You lost your memories of me… of us… and I am the one to not remember meeting you.”

He gave you no answer. His deep intake of breath made you realize he was thinking it through. Your own breath was cut short when he lifted the hem of your shirt and caressed your sides with his warm fingertips.

“I was very different back then,” he whispered against your hair. His voice was almost small, even if full of anger. “A pathetic thing, really.”      

Anger directed at himself.

It made your heart stop for a moment. It ached so much to him right now. When he spoke again, you forgot how to breathe.

“I had a split lip and some bruises my uniform could not conceal.”

Your heart was small now. Somehow — and you did not know how — your hand found his and your fingers entwined together.

“You were concerned about my well-being…”

You probably were. You always had a penchant, soft heart, for broken things — broken people. That was probably the reason why you fell in love with your husband back then.

Closing your eyes, you tried to summon that day back to your mind. You recalled something close to that. But that man — barely a man, freshly a man, really — was a far cry from the man behind you now, holding you in his arms. 

No wonder you could not remember him.

It made your heart even sorer now.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you. His warm breath was all you could hear and feel. You wetted your lips not really sure what you could say. Should say.

“I tended to you…?”

It was almost a question. Half-assertion. Knowing yourself well, you probably did. The images were so blurred in your mind. You recalled him. A tall, slim guy… Not very proud of himself, hiding behind the imposing figure of Brendol Hux — so very different form the man you called husband now… — but you did not remember much more than that.      

“You did,” he snorted. As if the very notion filled him with shame and… _disgust._ You could almost say — even if you could not see him now, you would not dare turn around and face him, you were afraid of ruining the moment — his lips were up in a snarl. “I am not very proud of myself that day. It did, however, serve its purposes.”

His lips skimmed the sensible skin of your ear.

You drew in a sharp breath.

One of his hands was still in his hip, the other was in your throat, keeping you in place. It made no pressure, it was simply there — a lone witness of his habit to be in control of all things, including you, his very wife.

Your body trembled in his embrace.

You knew what was about to happen. You did not know, however, how to get yourself free this time. You did not know if you wanted to.

“What purposes?” Your voice was such a meek thing. You should feel ashamed at how your body was trembling — both with fear and excitement. You did not know which feeling was worse.

His lips brushed the side of your throat lightly. Your fingers tightened around his and your body — shamefully, it was all such a shame! You would regret it later — moved closer to his, as if that was even possible. You could feel him everywhere — his fingers, his warm body, his breath, his soft lips — and it made you dizzy. 

You should feel ashamed of yourself.

_Definitely._

He did not give you a reply. Instead, he turned your head towards his and ran his lips on your chin.

You closed your eyes and gave in.

“That day made me realize what I wanted most in the world.” His words were whispered, his lips barely moved from your skin to give them life. He was again almost back to your ear, where he trapped your earlobe between his teeth. “My father dead…”

This made your eyes snap open.

Your heart beat irregularly.

Your throat constricted.

He did not give you much time — any time, actually — to consider his words — the ice in them, the anger, the disappointment, the extreme, almost religious hate —, he merely continued, “And you as my wife.”

And then… he finally reached your lips, moving his against yours slowly.

A moan of both relief and shame — you were a horrible person for yearning for such kiss — left you.

It was by no means a deep, full-fledged kiss. Merely a brush of lips. Even if intense, he did not let it escalate to anything more. A meek _please_ — again you did not know if it was to make him go further or to stop at once — came to fruition in your mouth, but he paid you no heed.

He continued to move his lips against yours in a slow — sinful even — dance; taking his time teasing you, savoring you. His tongue even traced your lower lip and you greedily reached to him, trying to deepen the kiss — to alleviate the burning sensation in your very core; it had been so long since you last felt this need — to make him kiss you for real…

A ruthless, uncaring man, the General broke apart unceremoniously and forced you to stare at him, this time not sideways, but up front. Your chest to his chest — or close to it, since you were not as tall as he — hip to hip; fingers on the small of your back, inside your clothes, caressing your bare skin in a soothing manner as the words came to life in his mouth,          

“Back then, I already knew you would be mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you have liked it.  
> Things escalated a bit and I'm not very sure of this chapter, but for the next to work, I needed them close... And I decided that they should've met before... Even if only briefly. 
> 
> Hope it doesn't disappoint.  
> Again, my thanks in advance for all of you who read, comment or not, leave kudos and bookmark. I'd be honored if you decided to tell me what you think. 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl, there you will see more about this fic and the gifs I enjoy making for my stories!  
> I've to go to my work now! See you!
> 
> Next Chapter: Good Guys & Bad Guys.


	4. Bad Liar & Good Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! xD
> 
> This time a earlier update, because I'll be working a lot the next two days and I'll be watching World Cup on Friday morning. So, no updates on Friday. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left a comment last chapter (0MidnightWing, isthisonetakenyet, Anonymous, Yuukinna and Sis8eneg) and for all the bookmarks and kudos. You guys are amazing and I love you all!
> 
> Things are getting a bit more steamy now, but I don't think it needs a E or M rating yet. It's nothing that everyone doesn't know about. If you don't feel comfortable with the rating, let me know. Hope you like it!
> 
> PS: I've just finished this chapter, so there'll be some mistakes. I'll fix them all (for all four chapters) this weekend.

It would be weeks before you could stare at yourself in the mirror without feeling ashamed. You watched the bathtub fill to the brim with water before you entered it; the warm liquid easing all the tight spots in your back.

He was — _thankfully_ — outside. Doing _kriff-knows-what._ He mentioned something about exercising his sore muscles. While you would be normally against it this early, you realized it was better if he stayed away from you.

After the shocking words, you were not sure you could look at him in the eye for more than half-second without blushing madly. If he did not know better — if he did not know you were his _wife_ and were a wife to someone else in the past — he would probably think you to be a virgin.

A sigh left your lips as you ran the sponge over your tired limbs. It had been quite hectic back at the hospital and only now, after the excitements of the day had died down, you realized how exhausted you were.

Some sleep would do you some good — you needed it. You knew, however, he would not let you sleep if not in the same bed with him. You had evaded it for days now; after that kiss and how shamefully you gave in, he would not take no for an answer. Heading back to the hospital as huge no-no this time as well.

You hugged your legs and placed your chin on your knees.

Even if you were dead tired and in need of some rest, you did not dare to sleep now. You had to be utterly spent by nighttime. It was the only way he would not try anything. And besides, afternoons usually went by quickly. It is, if you busied yourself enough.

It did not mean you were fine with it. You actually feared the night and the fact you would sleep together.

You dozed off in the bath and only when the water was rather cool you jerked awake. His steps headed towards the bathroom made you jump to your feet and wrap a towel around your frame, hugging it firmly.

He did not open the door, however. There was light knock.

“Just a moment,” you answered, drying yourself as quickly as possible and throwing over your old clothes. Because of course you would forget to bring fresh clothes to the fresher. When you opened the door, he was not waiting for you anymore.

Instead, you were greeted with changed sheets and a mug of tea waiting for you. The sun was shining outside, even if blended with twilight colors. It brought you some relief. It only meant you did not sleep as much as you thought at first.

“I am so sorry,” you muttered, not really sure what to say next. _Kriff!_ You were not sure you were apologizing for taking too long in the fresher or for kissing him back — for wanting more than you should possibly want. Wetting your lips, you began, “I did not realize I was this tired.”

He did not give you a reply, but you were getting used to that. The General did not strike as a man who engaged in small talk. Everything he did was extremely measured, his words could not work otherwise.

When he did speak though, you were rather astonished, “you should sleep.”

“No.”

You were afraid of staying awake during the night. Horrified at the thought of him trying something. And, more than that, utterly terrified at the prospect of giving in.

After that kiss — you almost kissed, it was barely a kiss —, it was no using denying how much you were attracted to him.

_It has been so long…_

The fact you pleasured yourself from time to time, when the need became too unbearable did not mean you did not crave for… well… _the real thing._  

It’s not the same as to say you could only reach orgasms with a man, but you missed more than the sex itself. To embrace someone during the act, having limbs, lips and hands intertwining… sharing the same air… hearts beating at the same rhythm… it was not something that one could simply put into words.

“I am not tired.”

If he was a lesser man he would have rolled his eyes. Needless to say, you were just being contradictory. It was obvious you were exhausted. You said so yourself before.

He merely rose his light brows and stared at you.

As a confirmation, a yawn escaped you.

_Blast!_

“Perhaps I should?”

Your words were met with no reply. _As expected._ He had already left the bedroom. _As expected too._ And sleep found you quicker and sweeter than ever. _Once again, as expected._

*******

The sun was no longer in the sky when you stirred awake. It had been a dreamless sleep and yet you had the sensation you had not rested at all. You figured out that it was somewhat related to the fact that you were quite worried about the upcoming night arrangements.

Would he… Would he be too mad if you simply did not take any rest at all? You could always use the excuse of needing to check onto something — something about healing, perhaps? — or simply leave the bed by saying you were rested enough not to need any sleep. _Not likely._

Still…

A voice in your mind reasoned you had to try. The other half of you — the sensible one — told you to let him do what he must. There was no need to be afraid of it. Sex was only… natural. And straightened bonds between couples too. And maybe, just maybe, it was time to let go of your fear of getting physical. Men all around the galaxy used sex as a means to achieve something, so why couldn’t you?

The very idea made your stomach churn.

_You can do it, (Y/N)!_

Yawning, you took a moment to get yourself situated. Eyes open now, you quickly spotted him sitting on the armchair. Part of you expected to find him focused on the datapad — his favorite companion for the last few days; not that you were complaining —, instead, his icy blue eyes were set upon you.

“Good evening,” you said, in a form of a short greeting. _What else could you say?_ It was so awkward to look at him after that… You gulped, it was even more awkward to gaze at his lips. It did not go unnoticed by your attentive eyes how full his lower was… And how soft it looked.

_Tasted._

He did not reply again. Arms positioned over his thighs, and hands supporting his chin, he seemed very comfortable but no less intimidating in his scrutiny of you — did he ever look otherwise?

You sat straight in the bed, the sheets covering most of you — and even if you were completely clothed, you felt naked under his smoldering analysis of you. And not in a sexual way. It made you more nervous it was not the case.

“By your reaction earlier, I gather we are not very much…” he gave the impression to be choosing his words carefully. His words made your heart thunder in your chest. “ _Intimate_.”

That had you biting your bottom lip.

_Mother of moons!_

What were you supposed to say?

Did he expect you to say how many times a week you have been intimate before the accident that nearly reaped his life?

You had to tread carefully. If you said too much, he could be surprised and if you said too little, he could be offended. Men were always easily insulted when it came to their prowess in bed.

More than that, you really did not know anything about him in such… aspects. _Kriffs!_ You had never seen him naked before! At least, not while he was awake and moving about. Of course, it would bring some color to your cheeks. You were no virgin, by no means, but it did not mean you partook in ogling the other sex very much.

When you did not respond, he moved his hands to the armrests. Your lack of reply forcing him to sit straight. He was bothered.

You shuddered.

“Or that you did not enjoy our _intimacy_ that much.”

Talk about awkward.

What were you supposed to say to that? Either way he could take your answer as an insult.

“I did.” Your voice was small, low and almost a whisper. Not very believable. Kriff! You did not believe yourself, you doubted he would.

He took a moment to reply, his face as cool as a dead star. His eyes, however, were very tempestuous. They did nothing to hide how conflicted he was.

“Bad liar.”

His words left his lips in a whisper as well. You had to strain yourself to hear them. When you did understand what he said, your heart was on the verge of leaving your mouth.

“Excuse me?” Your brows were arched. Your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. “My Lord? I don’t under—

“You are a bad liar,” he replied, this time in a reasonable tone. “You refuse to look at me when you are not telling the truth.”

To that, you had no response.

Again, what could you say? What did he expect you to say? You simply had no clue. He was a very difficult person to read. Probably the most difficult of all.

You rose from the mattress and walked towards him. It was obvious that this conversation could not happen with the two of you so far from each other. He mimicked you and stood to his feet. He was much taller than you, towering above you as you stopped in front of him.

Clearing your throat, you began, “My Lord, it’s just…” and the words died on your mouth. You shook your head and closed your eyes when he placed both hands on your shoulders.

Your head shot up, eyes completely focused on his. There was some feeling there… In his bluish orbs. Something you could quite not grasp, but made your heart ache for him.

It made you realize that his questions were not only related to his masculinity. Your lack of answer bruised his ego too, but not only that. There was a part of that man that strived for greatness and perfection in just about everything. To have his wife — a possession to do as he pleased; to control, for what more were wives in most societies? As a lone child of an influent family, even if in Dantooine you had close to nothing, back in your home country you were almost royalty — you learned quite early in life the role of a woman and a wife — sexually unsatisfied would be… _inexcusable._

How could one man reach the top of the most influential organization in the whole galaxy and still be unable to please his wife?

“Am I…” He seemed to choke in his words, as if the mere utterance of them would disgrace him greatly — and for generations to come, depending on your answer. “Incapable?”

Your eyes widened. You sucked in a breath.

“What? No!” You took his hands in yours, entwining your fingers together. The simple act seemed to ease his fears a little. However, that icy stare was back and focused on you. That made you almost recoil. Instead, you found some ounce in courage within you that you did not know where it came from. “My Lord that’s—” You interrupted yourself, looking for the best words. You decided to take another approach and say something truthful. Or as truthful as you could be with him. “I know you have no reason to believe me and that you think I am a bad liar, but so far in your relationship you gave me no reason to mistrust you, even if you hid some aspects of your previous life from me.”

There was silence from his part, as if he mulled over what you said, trying to make some sense of it.

Those were… half-truths… So far, in your relationship of merely a few days with him, he never gave you any reason to mistrust him — excepting for your dying fear of him killing you. Perhaps you should continue to stick to half-truths… They were more likely to work.

You just would have to say you did enjoy your sex life. Perhaps you should speak of your ex-husband? The mere thought made your stomach churn.

No.

That was a line you would not cross.  

“That doesn’t explain your reaction to me.” You bit your bottom lip. _Blast!_ He was quick. He brought both of his hands to your face to prevent you from looking down. “Nor explains whether I am unable to perform or not.”

“My Lord!”

He was… _Insufferable!_

“I assure you can perform quite fine.”

“Quite fine,” he repeated your words with disgust. He brought his fingers to your lips, tracing it slowly. His own curled up in a snarl, “is not enough.”

Your eyes were widened.

“Believe me when I say I am not unsatisfied.”

You saw him opening his mouth, ready with a reply, and instead continued. “I am more than satisfied.” You were firm in your words. Taking a deep breath, you continued with something that was completely true. “My giddiness and abrupt reaction earlier has nothing to do with your ability to perform.”

He seemed to take what you said in consideration. His fingers never stopping their caresses over your face. When his tips found your lips again, your tongue — out of its own volition — brushed his skin.

You did not know if the shudder came from your body or his.

He stepped forward, closing the gap between the two of you. You had to crane your neck to watch his face. He was handsome, not classically, but enough to command every attention where he went. You figured out it was something he was probably very skilled at: commanding people. Part of you — a baser, ridiculous and primitive piece; _needy even_ — wondered if he were good at commanding in bed as well.

The General of the First Order really looked like someone who enjoyed seizing control in and out of the bed. _Especially in the bed._

The mere thought sent a tingle sensation straight to your core.

Your eyes averted to his lips. His plump and inviting lower lip.

_Kiss him._

Your mind said in a whisper.

_Kiss him._

Your mind continued to whisper to you. A derisive, manipulative and wanton murmur. It would not leave you alone until you did its biding.

However, to kiss him you would have to pull him down — to stand on your toes would not do — and part of you were curious to know how he reacted when commanded.

“Kiss me.”

He blinked once. His light eyelashes beautifully outlined his bluish orbs. You did not know if it were a mere impression, or if their color was more vivid now. Shining with something akin to realization.  

“Kiss me now.”

That was bold.

Even for you.  

There was no time to blush, however, for he crashed his lips against yours. It was a demanding kiss — one that screamed that even if he did your biding, you were no more in control than a non-force sensitive was of a lightsaber —, not a meager brush of lips. He was greedy, thrusting his tongue inside your mouth and drawing out of you sweet sounds of pleasure.

One of his hands moved to your throat, holding you in place — you realized that he quite enjoyed having his fingers securely positioned in that area; it gave him total control of you — and the other moved to your lower back, keeping you close to him.

Your fingers were in his hair, entwined in his soft, ginger locks. Part of you wanted to guide him and have him at your mercy. You were used to be dominant in the bed, but it felt… odd and… exhilarating to be dominated.

He was so unlike everyone else — controlling but passionate —, taking his time with you. Alternating between languish brushes of lips and deep thrust of his tongue inside your mouth. The only constant was the fact that he did not allow you to dominate him even for a second.

You moaned in frustration, which caused the General to smirk — was he smirking? That smug bastard. He walked back to the armchair, with you still in his arms, your lips still together and leaned against the armrest. Positioned with one of his legs between yours, he attacked your mouth once again.

His hand returned to your throat, and yours found his chest — you did not realize your fingers met with bare skin until it was too late. He distracted you with his skilled lips — he was thoroughly making love to your mouth. The burning sensation in your core was too much, causing you to bounce against his thigh. You had to seek some sort of relief. It was just too much, you did not know what to think, what to feel or what to do. And in fact, thinking was the last you did when you felt his brush against your ribcages.

Jerking away from his touch — but not entirely from his arms — you opened your eyes and stared at him. At this very second, you did not think he was your husband and that kind of intimacy was more than natural — _kriff,_ you yourself wanted to move to such… level earlier… — and merely acted on your impulses.

You kind of expected him to ask how you felt about it, but he hummed quietly in your ear. Two kinds of men asked if their partners were satisfied: they were either too confident in their skills or they lacked faith in themselves. And again, the General did not strike as a man to engage himself in small talk.

His lips skimmed your chin and your cheeks, till they reached your earlobe. He did not trap it between his teeth, but his heavy breathing made you tremble in his arms and your hips to casually bounce against his thigh.

You bit back a moan at the friction.

“I should shave. And get my hair trimmed as well.”

Your fingers itched to touch his face. As if reading your thoughts and sensing your needs, he shifted — forcing your hips up, towards his erection, which caused you to blush beautifully — and held both of your wrists between one of his hands. The other caressed your throat lightly, before he replaced it with his lips.

“I-I… I like this five o’clock gracing your features,” you responded, your legs barely sustained you. If not for one of his hands — the one that was on your throat before — holding you by the waist, you would have collapsed. “And your hair too,” you admitted in a whisper.

He hummed at your words. Appreciation or doubt? You had no idea.

His lips returned to your ears and the next question came so low you almost to strain yourself to hear.

“It is clear to me I am not sexually impotent, but that does not mean I am fertile.”

You bit your bottom lip.

_What in the kriffing hell?_

“As far as I know, there is nothing wrong with your health, my Lord.”

How were you supposed to know if he was able to conceive a child with a woman? With you? If you did not think it could get worse, now you were reevaluating your hypothesis.  

You felt the beginnings of a terrible headache starting to chime in. Could he just stop? Would he?

“And you?”

_Apparently not._

“I am able to conceive, my Lord.”

He was silent for a moment, his arms around you slackened a bit, allowing you to leave the warmth of his arms. Your body protested — it needed this proximity, the blood in your veins sang at the prospect of running faster and pumping your heart even faster in the religious, magic and primitive dance of lovemaking.

You shuddered at the traitorous thought.

The rational side of you knew you should never have asked for that kiss.

A mistake.

That was a _terrible_ mistake.

You walked away, sat on the bed and started your feet. You could even reach for the hairbrush, but your hands were trembling.

Everything was happening too fast. The kiss, the burning desire, the need… It had been so long since you last felt such need. And he seemed willing to satiate it for you. _More than willing._

Resisting him would prove very difficult. Not only with your body — that was the last of your worries right now — but with your words as well. You feared that one day you would tell him everything — the truth and only the truth — and bring upon Dantooine the worst of disgraces: the First Order again.

“Did you have any child with Syndulla?”

The question startled you, and found you with round eyes. You opened your mouth twice, not sure of what to say. And again — what a disgrace! — there you were, telling him the truth, “No.” You wetted your lips and looked down. You found your throat clenching in thin air. The need to cry was overwhelming. “He never wanted a child. He thought— thought that his family was cursed, that any child he may have would suffer greatly and make me suffer as well.”

He was silent.

Very silent for a moment.

“Why?” you asked. You had to speak, least you wanted to cry in front of him. He did not strike you as a man who enjoyed all to close displays of weakness.

He seemed to hate everything that was weak.

Including a child.

“It occurred to me that you would have abandoned it.”

You opened your mouth, looking for words, but they failed you.

_What?_

_I would never!_

That was what you should have said.

Instead, you recalled what you saw in the datapad about him. A bastard child, taken all too soon from the breast of his mother. Parted from the soothing presence of that who gave him his life and welcomed him into the Galaxy.

He did not mean to ask if you had abandoned the child — if you had one —, but if he _forced_ you to abandon your son or daughter. You wondered if he saw himself doing the same unspeakable and vile acts his father committed — not only against the Galaxy, but against his son and ex-lover as well.

It made you understand why he seemed so insecure about you not wanting him. Again, it was more than a bruised ego and toxic masculinity — those were in the equation as well — but he feared to become what he hated and yearned to kill his entire life.

What the General really meant with his awkward and even offensive question was if he had — just like the monster of a father he had — yanked your child from your tender arms, and, in the process, killed you as well. It was reasonable to say that a mother with her child taking from her loving embrace was as good as dead. You had never mothered a child, but you knew you would be scarred for life.    

Devasted.

The words came to your lips muffled and you realized you were indeed crying this time. The tears rolling down your face torrentially.

Even if you wanted to control yourself, it was no longer possible.

“You would never.”

His face was still stoic as he walked to you and forced you to stand on your toes, his arms holding you tenderly. Or as tenderly as a man who had been deprived of a mother’s love — or anyone’s love for that matter — could. You embraced him back — strongly — your arms encircling his waist as you cried in his chest.

“I am not lying.” You sobbed against his shirt. “You would never take my child away from me. Yours or otherwise. You are not a monster.”

He did not reply immediately. You did not let him to. He ran his hands through your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp in soothing gestures.  

_I swear, you are not a monster._

_You are not a monster._

_Not a monster._

It became a muffled mantra in your lips, followed by _I am not lying,_ to which he answered simply with a affectionate kiss to your temples and a sweet whispered confession that had you crying even harder for the rest of the night,

“I know. You are a bad liar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I think that's all for today, kids!  
> I hope you have liked it. The General is very inquisitive and Reader is not so sure of her answers. There was a little trip to the department of backstory, but nothing too much... Hux is a very complex character and I do intend on working on his past and his relationship with his mother/father and Admiral Rae Sloane in the future! As well as Syndulla (love Cham Syndulla and Hera Syndulla) and Reader, of course. Anyway, again, not very sure of this chapter, but I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl, there you will see more about this fic and the gifs I enjoy making for my stories!
> 
> See you! And if you feel comfortable, tell me what you think. I'd love to read your thoughts xD


	5. Safety & Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! xD
> 
> Another earlier update, because I felt like to and because I'm inspired to write this story. As I said before, I'm usually a very lazy writer and I tend to take months to update, so I decided to keep the updates coming while I feel like writing xD
> 
> There are some words in Ryl in this chapter. The translation is right after the words, but just so you know, Nonna means more than a girlfriend and less than a wife, but since I didn't find the correct word for wife, I translated the word as such and Ka're means more than a boyfriend and less than a husband, and the same rule as above applies here as well.
> 
> Thanks to 0MidnightWing (for reviewing my every chapter, I love you) Millicent and Bitch hips (welcome!). You guys are amazing and your words always keep me encouraged to write. This chapter is to all of you and also is a gift for thephelpstwins, thank you for your ask and kind words. You're a darling! As for the bookmarks and kudo, I'm impressed by the growing numbers. I ABSOLUTELY did not expect so much in so fewer chapters!

The sun was high in the sky when you woke up in the next day. You rubbed your eyes and looked at the other side of the bed.

_Empty._

A relieved sigh left you.

It would be… awkward, to say the least, to wake up beside him. You cried yourself to sleep in his arms last night and you could not feel more ashamed now. It was something that happened to him — in his very distant past —, but you could not help but feel sorry for him. No human being should ever see and suffer what he suffered in life.

You did say he was not a monster.

Well… You knew very little of him and news travelled in a lazy pace in Dantooine, so you did not really know what he was capable of — or what the First Order demanded of him — but you knew that if you had had a child, he would not take him or her away from you. Not that you would allow it either.

Running your fingers through your messed hair, you left the bed and walked towards the kitchen. You dreaded looking at your face in the mirror — it was probably red and swollen from crying.

_Kriffs._

You should definitely get a grip of your emotions. Getting emotional every single day would not do. You told yourself that it was only natural… He did not know who he was, but his horrible past was still fresh to him as his new wounds, and you were lying to him… It put too much on your shoulders. You feared some of these days you would not be able to take it any longer and tell him the whole truth.

_You can’t!_

Biting the inside of your cheeks, you put some tea in your mug. He had done breakfast again. You could not complain, for you had to leave for the hospital shortly, and it spared you some time, but it was impossible not to notice how he seemed to have taking a liking to feeding you. That… or he did find your cooking skills less than palatable. And considering how skilled he was at about pretty much everything, that could not be much farther from the truth.

_Great, now you’re worried that he doesn’t like your food._

You shook your head and stared out at the windows. He was outside. Training. Exercising his body. Or whatever you would call someone doing sit-ups and push-ups at such fast pace. He looked like a machine.

Not much of a fan of exercising yourself, you did not get the reason why he was putting so much effort into it. You did go for a jog sometimes, for you understood the importance of staying active, but you did not go past that.

Bringing the food he cooked to your lips, you continued to watch him, your thoughts far away. You recalled the few times in which your husband did the same and how he would complain at how little you exercised yourself.

That made your throat close a bit.

It seemed like a decade went by since you last watched Aquilla climbing up the trees and urging you to follow him to the highest branches.     

You shook your head when he stopped at the threshold; arms folded at his chest. You gulped and looked down at your plate. A low, almost whispered _Morning_ came out of your lips, before you busied with the food once again.

As expected, he did not respond. He was really _not_ a man of many words and definitely not one up to small talk. Very different from Aquilla, who would question every single detail your day, even if he were present in most of them.

“Did you sleep—

“I am sorry—

The two of you spoke at the same time. He tilted his head a little, allowing you to continue. You breathed deeply through your nose and looked at him.

“I am sorry for yesterday.” The words came in a rush, but you felt the need to continue, so you kept them coming, “I feel rather stupid now. I shouldn’t have cried so much.”

He continued with his head lightly tilted to the side, staring at you with those impossibly blue eyes. It seemed he was drinking in your form, so intense was his stare. There was no word of dismissal — as Aquilla would have said, in an attempt to comfort you —, nor any act of kindness.

You bit your bottom lip. This man, _this very man_ in front of you was nothing alike your late husband. They were as different as night and day and air and earth. Completely opposites. And it made no sense that you kept comparing them or trying to find common traits between them.

Perhaps you thought that if they were at least a little alike, you would feel less guilty about housing the enemy? For he was an enemy. His act last night could not fool you. If he knew… — _Kriffs, one day he would!_ — he would not spare you a single glance. If he held you last night, if he kissed your temple and nursed you to sleep, it was because he felt some sense of duty towards you. Contrary to Aquilla, he would never do that to anyone else.

He approached you, and only when he had his hand around your throat, keeping a firm grip around you — not enough to crush or hurt you, but to force you to stare at him — you realized that if he ever wanted, he could kill you without mercy.

_Would…_

You were not so sure anymore.

Eyes widened, you placed your hand around his, trying to break free from his grasp. He did not bulge. Unable to breathe properly and totally out of despair — something that your late husband always disapproved in the few times he got to sparr with you — you scratched his hand, or tried to, and brought your knee to his crotch, only to be intercepted by his hand. He moved your knee out of the way and pined both of your hands behind your back, turning you around and placing one of his legs between yours in order to keep you imbalanced.

His breath was warm against your ear when he spoke the next words, “Your reflexes are in very poor shape.” Your heart was beating so fast and your blood pumping so loudly, you could barely hear what he said. The General let go of your arms and steadied you by placing a hand in your hip. He continued, but it seemed he was talking to himself rather than you, “I find it odd that I did not train you myself in all these years.”

_Blast!_

How were you going to explain that? What were you supposed to say?

With your lip trapped between your teeth, you came up with that you thought to be the best excuse, but that he would find the lamest ever, “You never felt the need to.” You licked your bottom lip, “You are strong enough to protect us both.”

You thanked the maker you were back turned to him, so he would not see you grimacing. That was not only the worst excuse, but it was also a certification of your uselessness.

And there were very few things you hated more than feeling useless.

At least you hoped to have… _stroked his ego?_

His snort made it clear that you had failed… completely. _Beautifully._

“That does not sound like myself.”

Well… That made you feel really good about yourself.

“Rather stupid and illogical decision,” he continued, his breath still caressing your skin. You shuddered. Couldn’t he just let you go? What was with him and talking to you while he kept you within his arms and unable to look at him? It made you feel rather… _helpless._ “It is hard to believe I would jeopardize your safety for the sake of my ego.”

“Well, that’s the truth, my Lord,” you chimed in, now a bit angry at him for keeping you in that damned position. You tried to break free, but he did not allow. Breathing deeply in your ear, he dug his fingers into your hip, which made you gasp in pain.   

“Your movements are clumsy,” he stated, loosening his grip around you. He turned you around and this time made you face him. You did so unwilling; your eyes hiding nothing of your resentment. “Efficient to get rid of a lesser opponent, but anyone stronger could easily break you.”

You were ready to ask him if he was quite done showing off his superiority. If not about his ego, what was this all about? You could not come to a conclusion. You just knew that at this very moment, you regretted saving him.

The very thought made you gasp.

That was so unbecoming of you… But to feel angry, to feel resented was only human, you told yourself. And anyways, no matter what you thought now, the reality was could not be more different. You did save him after all.

If there was any chance of going back, you certainly would save him again. And again and again.

Even if that was the stupidest decision ever.

“Tomorrow morning you will train with me,” he started, and you opened your mouth to disagree. The expression on his usually emotionless eyes had you exhaling loudly through your nose. “I shan’t ever see you reacting like…” He regarded you with disgust. “ _…this_ with anyone, even if it is me bringing you harm.”

You were now fuming.

“Did I make myself clear?”

You could not believe him. He was in full General mood and completely ordering you around. You knew that wives were supposed to obey their husbands — they were their properties in Dantooine, even if you did not agree with this ridiculous law —, but you could not bring yourself to say anything.

When he tilted your head and looked right through your eyes, his bluish orbs intense and persistent, you mumbled a very irritable _Yes._    

“Yes, what?”

“Please, you are not making me do that.”

The glint in his eyes told another story, however. Yes, he was _definitely_ doing that.

_Kriffing bastard!_

“Yes…” You swallowed your pride and whispered a _General_ at the end.

You were happy that he did not say anything else. Instead, he inched closer to you and brushed your lips against yours as if saying you were a good girl. _Or pet._ Or servant. Or anything else but his wife.

Closing your eyes, you did your best not to bite his lip… _hard_ — or mind screamed you should try it one of these days, since he liked so much to be get so physical with you. Thank the maker you had to go to the hospital today. Or else you would have probably sunk one of the kitchen’s knives in his back when he last expected.

***

The day at the hospital was tiring to say the least, but fulfilling as well. In spite of the terrible situation the entire city fell in since the last attack, you could not say that had been a horrible shift. For two main reasons: one, no one had died on you and two, but most important of all, you had stayed away from the General.

You did not like the tiniest bit how he teased you and exposed your weaknesses. Aquilla would never do that — and you could not help but compare the two of them again —; he would respect your limits and your wishes. He would never force you to call him by his title.

Aquilla was also not a man used to command utter respect from others as well and having only his desires considered, which was the total opposite of the General.

You sighed. You knew that this grudge was irrational. In the end, _your husband_ only wanted what was best for you — or he himself, you were not sure yet — but he could have approached the issue very differently.

The question is, did he know how to do it?

Shaking your head, you entered the house and found him at the threshold waiting for you — or so you thought by the way he greeted you. He took the bag of supplements you were carrying and brought you to his arms. Your heart sped at that — it was simply inevitable how he used every opportunity to touch you — and you did your best not to squirm or try to break apart — _get used to it!_ you told yourself — when he lowered his head at you. Instead of bestowing you with his kiss, he spoke against your lips in the most silent of murmurs, “Someone followed you here.”

You looked at him as if he had grown thirty heads. He was wrong.

“No one followed me here,” you whispered back, holding onto his arm. No one would ever follow you back home, _right?_ You always made sure not to let anyone know where you lived, a feeble attempt of keeping your own peace and the villagers in reasonable safety.

Reasonable because you knew it would be impossible to hide and protect anyone, for too long at least, from both the First Order and the Rebel Alliance as well.

He pulled you inside and closed the door behind you, keeping you against it. Your heard hammered in your chest, but you did not open your mouth, not when he had his finger placed upon his lips, ordering you to keep quiet.   

You knew that after your husband passed away it would take little time for them to seek you — or at least since they knew of his passing, for you made sure they took their sweet time locating you.

It’s ironic, because you wanted to tell General Organa, but you were afraid what telling her would do to your planet. You had seen with your own eyes how the endless fight between the two militaries parties left Dantooine. You did not want a reprisal.

You even open your mouth to argue, but he glared at you. The General moved away from you and walked around the house, approaching the windows, where he watched the — according to him — _stalker._

It was not night yet and the sun was still in the sky, so he could clearly see what took place outside. Moving from your spot, you went for the first object you saw — a knife — and walked back to the door, totally forgetting that you had his blaster attached to your hip. You had taken it before you left for the hospital, afraid that he may find it and… _you did not know…_ use it on someone? Well, better be safe than sorry.  

“Behind me,” he commanded, looking at your hip. His narrowed eyes told you his exactly thoughts. Reading him had never been so easy. If the situation were any different, you would have smiled, but you had to disagree with him. And this time you had no problem doing so. You placed a hand on his chest and forced him to gently back away.

“No.” You shook your head. “You stay behind me. It could be a mere villager seeking a healer.”

Even if you knew he was right and you were wrong, you could not help but argue. Your heart continued to beat loudly in your chest, making it difficult to concentrate on the approaching steps.  

“Do you know this villager?” he shot back.  

You bit your bottom lip.

He was right.

For _kriffs’_ sake. Why did he have to be _always_ right? It was annoying! And how you hated that he was right.

“Mrs. Syndulla.”

_Oh, for the maker!_

It was definitely someone from the Rebel Alliance. No one else called by your husband’s name anymore. In Dantooine, widows were known by their maiden name or not referred by anyone at all. It was a weird custom, but everyone got used to it after some time, and considering most people referred to you either by your status as healer, it did not make much of a difference.

Hux looked at you through narrowed eyes; the question crystal clear in his blue orbs. You opened your mouth and this time he motioned for you to keep going.

“Answer the door.”

You were not sure you should, but you did. By the time you touched the doorknob, the General was gone.

There was no time for any greetings and questions for as soon as the Resistance member — you had never seen him before — entered the house, he pointed his blaster past you.

It had never occurred before and you did not know how to act.

“Who are you? Who are you looking for?”

He did not shift his attention to you, but warned all the same, “Drop the weapon.”

You did not realize you were holding firmly onto the knife till he ordered to let it go. You tightened your hold over it, not really sure why you did it. Out of despair, maybe. You just hoped the General would stay hidden until you dealt with this situation.

It is… If that was something that could be dealt with.

“You should never have helped him.” His accent was thick. It was obvious he was not used to speak Basic. “You betray everything Aquilla Syndulla stood for when you decided to help a General of the First Order.”

A snort left you. As if he knew your husband. Most people who spoke so highly of his name and invoked him all the time knew almost _nothing_ of him.

Then, it sunk on you. The Rebel Alliance — the real members of the faction — did not know of your husband’s death — if they did, they never sought you out —, but the locals, or those from nearby planets, the ones who said they fought for the Resistance, but actually tried to profit by stating they would help the poor villagers, always tried to keep you on their side, for they knew everyone would follow the widow of the great Aquilla Syndulla.

He continued to look past you. It was not needed to look back to know who he was referring to. The General stepped ahead, stopping right behind you. He placed a hand on your hip and brought you against his chest. Even if the contact between you was not something either considered natural, you relished in it.

It made you feel safe, somehow.

And that should made you snort. Feeling safe in a dangerous situation. _How paradoxical!_ And so alike yourself, you should feel ashamed.

“I will shoot her if you don’t step away.”

The General all but ignored his words. Burying his nose on your hair, he whispered in your ear, “Do as he said. Drop the knife.”

It took you a while to understand what he said, but you somehow obeyed him. A shiver ran down your spine as you let go of the knife. It was supposed to fall to the ground, but he caught it as soon as your fingers loosened around it.

Then it happened so fast you barely had any chance to gasp.

In less than a second the knife was pressed against your throat. Eyes widened, you raised your hands against his wrists, but gave up shortly after. It was no use fighting him. He made that absolutely clear that you were no match to him that very morning. Your heart continued to gallop against your ribcage. You never thought him capable of hurting you — at least not this soon. Not in his very first chance.

It went against everything he said that very morning, _right?_

The stranger widened his eyes and furrowed his brows, not really knowing how to deal with this development.

You drew in a breath, not so sure of yourself anymore.

“Drop the blaster.”

The command was firm. He looked every bit the General he was. The stranger obeyed him, all the while begging him to leave _you_ — or Mrs. Syndulla as he knew you to be — alone and unharmed.

Not knowing what to do or how to act, you remained in place. Armitage Hux still had one hand firmly placed on your hip and the other holding the knife against your throat.

 _“Freykaa…”_ His voice startled you. It was no more than a whisper. You continued to stare ahead, not really sure what to make of him speaking Ryl. It had been a while since someone spoke to you in your husband’s first language and called you _beloved._ His pronunciation was far from natural, a bit weird, and his breath tickled your skin, but your expression remained the same. _“You will do as I say.”_  

You did not know if you should not, so you replied a yes in Ryl. _“Ka, Ka’re.”_

The stranger, not versed in Ryl — it was obvious, or else he would know that you had said _yes_ and called the General _your husband_ — was now kneeling on the floor where he put his blaster and pushed it towards you. He placed both hands behind his head, acknowledging defeat.

“We came looking for you as soon as we knew Aquilla Syndulla perished in the—

“Silence,” the General commanded. To you, he spoke the words slowly, as if the language tasted bitter on his tongue. _“Slowly… Very slowly, get the blaster and point at him. I want you to put a hole in his head.”_

Your eyes widened at the suggestion. You shook your head in despair. It was obvious the Rebel — or whatever faction he belonged to. It was obvious he _was not_ with General Organa, one of her soldiers would never thread so lightly where innocent lives were concerned — had no qualms putting your life in danger, but it did not mean you could do the same to him.

_“I can’t.”_

“Let go of her.” The stranger said. “Please, Mrs. Syndulla, we have reason to belie—

Before he could finish his sentence, he hit the floor. As the General asked you to do, there was a hole in his head. You could see right through it. A horrific scene that surely would haunt your dreams for days — months — to come.

Unable to face it, you turned around, only to be met with his chest. He held your chin firmly and forced your head back to the corpse on your floor.

“Please, don’t make me stare at him.”

 _“You must,”_ he replied. He was still speaking in Ryl and the very acknowledgment made your stomach churn. _“Open your eyes, Nonna.”_

“Please…” you begged in Basic. You did not know if you were pleading because he was calling you _wife_ in the same tone your late husband used to call you, or because he was trying to make you stare at the dead body on the floor.  

He let go of your chin and stepped back. You did not open your eyes until you were sure he was not close to force you to stare at it again. Drawing in a deep breath, you turned around and followed him to your chambers.

“Never let them know your weakness. It only will give them the means to exploit you.”

You gulped, not sure what to say. What he could possibly want to hear? The idea of staring at that corpse made you want to vomit. What’s worse is that you knew you it would not go away alone. You would have to get rid of it.

Drag it away from your home.

_Bury it._

Hope… _Pray_ … that no one ever knew what happened.

“You must overcome your fears.” He tested the blaster in his hand, as if he was not used to its weight.

“I am not afraid of a dead body,” you shot back, unable to tear your eyes from him. He looked deadly. Your throat was tight as you recalled how he pressed the knife against your very skin. That was a man who had no qualms about ending your life. Or anyone’s else for that matter.

“You are afraid of taking a life,” he replied, before placing it inside the drawer in the bedside table.

To that you had no answer.

What could you possibly say?

You were a healer, not a killer. Your job was to save lives, not to take them. It was understandably, right?

He walked to you, stepping in your personal space. You tried to walk away, but he held you by the wrist; his left hand was in your hip, keeping you in place.

“You are a healer, not a killer,” he used your words and you wondered if he was not force sensitive or at least able to hear or read your thoughts. “I get it.” He let go of your wrist and lifted your chin, forcing you to stare at him. This time, you did not have the will to close your eyes. “However, you would do well to remember he would kill you.”

“He was stalling.”

“For how long?” he asked back and ran his finger upon your bottom lip, preventing you from biting it. You looked down, refusing to stare at you, or to let him know you were on the verge of tears. Again. _Get a grip of yourself!_ “You would do well to conceal your weaknesses from now on.”   

“You speak as if you had one,” you bit back the rest of your sentence. _If looks could kill…_ You were bitter, and you knew it. This entire day he did his best to get on your bad side and surprisingly he managed it just fine.

He took a while to reply and when he did, the topic seemed completely different from the one you were discussing. 

“If the First Order did not choose you, it means I did and out of my own volition.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words left you. Brows furrowed, you stared at him agape. What did it have anything to do with the topic at hand? Not to mention that it contradicted what he said earlier.

_Back then, I already knew you would be mine._

Shaking your head, you waited for his explanation. He walked to the armchair and sat down.

“I said I wanted you as my wife. And I did… I still do.” His whispered words — almost like a confession — had you holding your breath. “But I doubt I would ever go against the First Order’s rules.” He looked to you, his eyes as intense as ever. You gasped and wondered if you would ever get used to the intensity of his bluish orbs. “But I did and that makes you my greatest weakness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for today, kids xD I will update this Friday as well. But I'd like to announce I'm also writing a Regency story called "In the General's bed", another Hux x Reader story, set in Regency England, 1815 and if you're interested, I'm thinking about posting it June, 28. Let's see... Anyways, here goes the summary:
> 
> The General is cornered… Upon returning from a successful campaign in Battle of Waterloo, Armitage Hux knows he has no excuses left; he must produce the much-needed heir. The problem is, when the two of you parted five years ago, it was not in the best of terms. Now, he may not find his wife, you, so willing as he first expected, nor keen on taking part in any of his political games. [Hux x Reader – Hux x You – Regency AU]. 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl, there you will see more about this fic and the gifs I enjoy making for my stories!


	6. Friends & Foes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, beloved readers!
> 
> As promised, here I am to update Lie to Me. Well, it's still Friday here in Brazil! xD  
> I usually update in the morning, or at dawn, but this time I couldn't have it finished before... so here it goes. I've just finished this chapter, so you know... I promise this weekend I'll read all my chapters and fix my mistakes.
> 
> My biggest thanks for all your kudos (77 already! you guys are amazing!) and for your bookmarks. I've no words to say how thankful I am. And for everyone who reviewed last chapter (isthisonetakenyet, anonymous, Millicent, venix, bitch hips, 0MidnightWing) you guys rock!
> 
> 0MidnightWing, this chapter is a gift for you!

You were speechless for a few minutes — the impression was that hours had gone by — after what he had just said.

_Confessed?_

Was that a confession?

You were not sure and was afraid of finding out.

Thankfully, as soon as he said those words, he left you alone in the bedroom. He did not say where he was heading to and as a matter of fact you were not interested.

A tired sigh left you as you removed your head from your hands. You ran your fingers through your hair, taking a moment to get yourself situated.

The corpse.

_Right._

He did kill the member of the Resistance. He did put a hole in his head. He did it in spite of the fact you did not want him to.

Still sitting on the bed, you brought your legs closer to your chest. Chin resting on your knees, you took a few deep breaths to calm yourself. It would not do to lose it now.

But that was so _kriffing_ difficult!

Part of you tried to see reason behind his actions. You lifted your head and started lowering your fingers one by one, as you began to number his possible motives.

One, the man would kill you. Two, the man would have killed him. Perhaps not him. He proved capable of defending himself — and you, a small voice nagged in the back of your head. By killing the man, he saved your life as well. He did not need to. He could have let you die, but he didn’t.

_That makes you my greatest weakness._

If that was indeed the truth — and he had no reason to lie; he himself believed he chose you because of something… _love…_ perhaps? More like possession, even though he did not recall it thoroughly — you had to somehow exploit it, right?

You gulped.

That left you with only one reason.

A nagging voice in the back of your mind said that perhaps he killed the man because he wanted to. Because it was fun. Because he… you did not know… belonged to a Order whose main objective was to enslave everyone and kill those who disagreed?

You shook your head. If you stayed in the bed forever, your unstoppable and guilty mind would come up with hundreds of reasons why he should not be trusted and why you should have killed him — left him for dead — and right now you needed him to trust you. You had to… exploit the fact he did not have his memories and use it for… good? Whatever good and bad could entail… You had to figure out how far he would go to bring his plans to fruition — whatever they may be.

And there was still a body waiting to be buried.

_Errrr…_

You were glad your stomach was empty; otherwise, you would be emptying it real quickly.

_Ah for the maker!_

There was some part of you that doubted you would be able to eat for a few days.

You left the bedroom and walked to the kitchen — where he was not present at the given moment — and the hall, where there was no dead body.

“What in the _kriffing_ hell?”

The door was opened, and you could see — a mere shadow — the General with a bottle in his hands — you did not need to look at the cupboard to know the _Tihaar_ was missing — looking at a pile of ashes.

You even thought about going after him, but you were not sure you were ready for the conversation that was to follow. Or to see that corpse again without feeling the worst of monsters.

Turning around, you looked for some herbs to make tea, and this time you were relieved to know he did not cook.

Considering that he took care of the body, you were glad to be left with dinner, even if you had no stomach to think about food right now.

 _He needs to eat_ , you told yourself. He was still recovering, going a night by without dinner would not do.

And you yourself had to eat; getting sick when you had so many lives to take care of would be just reckless of you. _Imprudent._ The hospital needed as many healers as possible right now. And you stayed away for far too long nursing him.

You were so afraid he would die on you, you took some days off and even forgot to eat while taking care of him.

Taping on the water, you washed your hands and set the necessary items to make a _tritacale_ pie on the counter. _Triticale_ pie was not the most your favorite recipe, but you thought that eating something more consistent would do him some good.  

He was already on the threshold, leaning against it. You looked at him over your shoulders and bit your bottom lip. He did not seem keen of initiating a conversation — and whenever he did, he left you more nervous than you could deal right now —, so you did it yourself.   

“Please… Don’t do that anymore.”

He folded his arms at his chest and arched his eyebrows, as if saying you should continue.

You drew in a sharp breath. Looking at him was not helping, so you shifted your attention to the vegetables and started chopping them.   

“You know what I am talking about.”

He remained silent.

_For the maker!_

He was going to make it difficult for you.

You opened your mouth to continue, but he cut you short, “I make no idle promises.”

Realizing you were gaping, you closed your mouth. You were grimacing at the vegetables. Your heart was not in it, if he did think your cooking abilities were not that good before — you thought he did and again why did it matter? —, he would be sure now. 

“At least don’t do that while I am around.”

He did not give you any reply.

No idle promises.

_Right._

He was insufferable!

Unable to take more of his silence and his intense blue eyes focused on your back, you trailed off, “The corpse…”

“Taken care of.”

“But—

“It has already been taken care of.” His voice was firmer this time, from the straight and harsh line of his lips, you knew that he was not pleased about the topic at hand. “Nothing you should concern yourself about.”

“I just…

“Mrs. Syndulla, let’s change topic, shall we?”

His whispered voice — so threatening, so low and so devoid of any amiable emotion — had you sweating.

There we go.

_I’m doomed._

“Mrs. Hux,” you corrected, and the words felt bitter in your tongue. Now you wished you had a bit of _Jawa Juice_ at hand. _Tihaar_ would simply not do. Too strong and too bitter to your liking.

“It’s not the first time a member or the Resistance drops by to a short visit.”

It was definitely not a question.

You wetted your lips.

What to do? _What to kriffing do?_

You decided to go for the truth.

“No.”

Looking down, you washed your hands once again and dried it in a dishcloth. They were trembling slightly. You exhaled slowly, trying to calm your nerves.

“But it’s been some time since they last came by.”

He moved from the threshold and placed the bottle of _Tihaar_ on the table and walked to you. His steps forced you to back against the sink.

_Oh, for the maker!_

Would he just stop doing that?

By the way the words left his mouth, you were sure they tasted like ashes, “I find it hard to believe.”

You swallowed.

Yeap.

He was going to definitely make it hard for you.

“It’s the truth,” you whispered, walking to him. You stopped right in front of him, giving him no opportunity to corner you. _Go for the truth,_ a voice in the back of your head whispered. Well… At least you could go for the partial truth. “I know I’ve not been telling you everything…” You touched his face, taking your sweet time with his sharp cheekbones and five o’clock shadow. You did like him like that — even if he disagreed —, it made him less alike your husband and the more differences you could find between them, the better for your own sanity. “But that’s because I worry for your health, if I told you everything… What I mean is, I am responsible for your health and I would not jeopardize it for the sake of some old memories.”

He placed one of his hands over yours, keeping them in place; the other moved to your waist, pulling you against him. He surely was a man who enjoyed getting physical with you.

“That…” He was focused on your eyes as he continued; his hand was inside your shirt, caressing the small of your back. You gasped, if for the words or the contact of his nude fingers against your skin, you did not know, “or you are afraid of what I may recall.”

Eyes widened, you partially forgot how to breathe for a moment.

You opened your mouth, ready to explain yourself — even if you had no idea how to do it —, but he placed a finger on your lips, silencing you for good.

“That does not require an answer.”

He brushed your bottom lip. Your heart was beating madly against your ribcages. You had no idea how to react. Your hands left his face and moved to his shoulders. You did not dare step away, not when he still had his hand inside your shirt, keeping you close.

“Let’s make a deal, Mrs. Hux,” he started; eyes intense and unreadable. You simply hated how easily he could read you and how difficult it was for you to do the same with him. “You tell me the truth for the next few questions and I promise to trust you in the future.”

You bit your bottom lip.

That was an interesting deal, but _trust_ was not really something concrete. He could say he trusted you while mistrusting you.

And he was far better at pretending than you.

“And I promise to only touch you when you ask for it.”

 _As if you ever would_.

You bit your bottom lip.

That was a certainly better — and fitting — proposition. He stepped away from you, as if to show you he would hold to his words.

“That’s no idle promise,” he continued and took a seat at the dining table. You joined him, unsure of yourself. That was a dangerous game, this one you were playing, but it was like that from the start. “I am perfectly aware you fear physical intimacy with me.”

You kept your mouth shut.

What else could you say?

He looked at you as if expecting an answer, but you merely bit your bottom lip.

“That was not a question, my Lord. You said I only had to answer your questions.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, but you could see that he was if not proud of your quick rebuttal; he was at least amused at your courage.

“Very well.” He poured some _Tihaar_ for him in a glass and looked at you. You nodded.

Both of you drank it at the same time.

 _Kriffs!_ How you wanted some _Jawa Juice_ right now!

“You never told anyone Aquilla Syndulla died.” He had his eyes completely focused on you as he continued, “why?”

You shook your head.

Only a few people knew it. And certainly no one you worked with. After your husband disappeared, you left your home and everything you knew. You came back to a place you had lived before with Aquilla, in the beginning of your marriage; before he became a living legend across the galaxy.

You stopped using his name and everyone called you a healer now. It was mostly improbable someone of the Rebel Alliance — or someone who tried to use their name to gain some advantage over hopeful and poor people — would find you and call you by your husband’s name in this remote area.

To think they would know you were housing a member of the First Order was not only surprising, but actually shocking.

“No one even knows who I am,” you finally found your voice. Still looking down, you stared at your feet as if your toes were the most interesting things in the galaxy. “Only a few people… but mind their own businesses.”

There was silence for a moment, as if he contemplated your words and thought about a reply. He was a man who always knew what he said, you noticed, and this time was no different.

However, when he did speak, it was a surprise. You lifted your head and furrowed your brows at his statement. 

“No one knows you are my wife.”

“Does it matter?” Before you could control yourself, the words just spilled your mouth. You brought your hands over your lips and thought how screwed you were.

_Kriffs!_

Now you had said it, you had to give him a decent explanation. 

“You are not with the First Order anymore, but—" You stopped yourself. You _had_ to play this right, or he would never believe you. “They never—

“Let any of their assets go that easily.”  

You sighed in relief. He was _finally_ starting to see reason.

“Your reasoning has some merit.” He looked away, hands interlaced over the table; you knew he was in deep thinking. “I do wonder, however, why I would leave the First Order.”

He rose from his chair and approached the windows. A shiver ran down your spine at the thought of someone coming for the man who died earlier. However, he was far too relaxed for that. At least, as relaxed as possible for him. He had his hands behind his back, his shoulders squared.

“They’ve tried to kill you?” You spoke as if that were obvious. You even approached him, but when he looked at you over his shoulder, you stopped right where you were. “I thought we were past that…” You mused quietly.

He looked at you over his shoulders, his eyes narrowed.

“I am aware of that. However, there always have been threats against my life.”

You looked down. If that was to work out, you had to crush this romantic notion he had about the First Order.

“This time they almost succeeded. And they would have, if I didn’t reach you in time.”

Your answer felt like a slap to his face. The way he looked at you said that much.

“You may not remember it, but they betra—

“I know it.”

You could swear behind his cold intonation there was some hurt. Subconsciously, you walked to him, reached for his hand, but he walked away before you could touch him.

_Great!_

_Just great!_

The silence was so thick there was a huge _bantha_ in the room.

“Listen…” you started, not really sure where this might lead you. This time you were the one to lean against the threshold, arms folded on your chest; you were almost hugging yourself. “I… I… We are not with the Rebel Alliance. I mean… We are not with the First Order either and I am not sure we can trust any of them. The Rebellion would not have you and clearly the First Order descart—

“Enough.”

His voice and the way he turned on his heels to face you made it clear that speaking of the First Order was off topic. His next question, however, was what had you furrowing your brows and doubting his sanity.

“And why are we not with the Rebel Alliance?”

“I…I…” You reached for his forehead, sure he was feverish or something like that. He was not making any sense. He intercepted your hand, holding it between his. “I told you, they would not have you. They would possibly kill you or hand you back to the First Order.”

“Not General Organa.”

You bit your bottom lip.

He was right.

At least, partially right.

General Organa would never kill him. She did not use the same means as the First Order or the Empire in the old days.

She was different.

She was better.

But she did not rule alone. It was no Empire with a single Empress ruling above all. You were not sure she would go against the entire Alliance because of a single man. A single life. An enemy none the less.  

She didn’t in the past.

Not for your husband.

Not for you.

“There is no sovereignty in the Rebel Alliance. She will listen to her Council and do their bidding.” These words brought back some memories you did not want to recall. You looked down and remained with your eyes glued to the floor.

There was a moment of silence. You thought hours had gone by before you finally looked up and found him staring back at you with curiosity in his eyes.

“You resent the Rebel Alliance,” he stated, his eyebrow arched lightly. As if knowing you would not answer him, unless he made you a direct question, he added, “why?”

This time, you mimicked him and took your moment to reply. When you did, it was neither what the two of you had in mind.

“Why are you so interested in them?”

You surprised yourself with your boldness. Just like the day you demanded him to kiss him, you did not know where this bold attitude came from. You unfolded your arms and sighed.

“You just never cogitated the option of joining the Rebel Alliance…” You cast a glance at him. From his arched eyebrows, you already knew what to say next, “You still don’t. I see…”

Realization sunk on you…

…leaving you disappointed. No matter how much he felt betrayed and abandoned by the First Order, he still did not think of the Rebel Alliance as a viable option.

That was… _frustrating._

And delayed your plans a bit.

Part of you wanted to take him to General Organa and see how she would act this time, face to face with a past enemy that could help destroy her biggest enemy and an entire organization… Part of you feared her reaction, feared she would let the past repeat itself in a gruesome fashion.

“You did not answer my question.”

His tone was low, and very close to you. You looked up and found him inches away. He was practically invading your personal space.

You would have sighed if he his breath were not mixed with yours.

There was no need for him to say anything else. You knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Yes… I feel conflicted about them.”

You took a step towards him and this time he did not prevent you from walking away. He did say he would not touch you if you replied to his questions with the truth. And you did. All of them were answered with the absolute truth thus far. He seemed surprised when you sought him out and this time invaded his personal space by yourself. You just stood there, in front of him, not quite touching him, but not far from his grasp either.

That was not a topic you felt comfortable talking about, but you realized that doing it would do you no harm either.

“We needed them in the past…” You took a deep breath. “Aquilla needed their help and they didn’t come…” You looked down, at your feet; you really expected him to not force you to face him. You could not take it right now. He did not. “And when there was word General Organa sent someone to help Emissary Syndulla it was too late.”

He kept silent.

And you never welcomed his silent nature more than in that moment. You did not know if you could take any word from him. There was no need for a comfort gesture — and why would he comfort you after all? If you were now with him, it was solely because Aquilla had… vanished in thin air.

“He never asked for help,” you trailed off. “I did… I did ask for their help, for him. He always thought he could handle everything himself.” You snorted. Eyes still cast on the floor, you watched how closer your feet were placed together. “Turns out he couldn’t.”

There was no answer or any commentary from him. Not that you expected it either. But his silence somehow bothered you this time. His lack of response — and from everyone who knew this story — made you believe they felt sorry for you. They pitied you. The young healer who lost everyone she held dear, including her husband.

“You still love him.”

His whispered words came out of the blue. And even if that was not a question, this time you found yourself answering.

“I do.”

The silence that followed made you look up; look at him. Instead of anger, disappointment or any hard feeling, you found understanding in his eyes. As if suddenly, everything made sense to him.

“I see…”

Realizing that maybe — just maybe — your confession had screwed everything, you reached for him, but he retreated, putting some space between you. You covered your face with both hands, feeling very tired.

Tired of lying.

Tired of pretending.

Tired of trying to guess what he was thinking, feeling or planning.

It was all so exhausted.

“He was my friend… My best friend.” You walked to the bedroom, completely forgetting about dinner. He followed you closely. “How could I not love him?”

You could say that you loved him as well, that you cared for him, but tonight was about telling him the truth and you simply could not say you loved your late husband in one minute and in the next say you loved him.

The fact he did not force you to say anything or asked for any more explanations made you sigh in relief. It spoke volumes about him. In fact, it spoke more about him than yourself.

You knew very little about the almighty General Amirtage Hux, but what you did made it plainly clear he would never be someone to beg for anything — and certainly not for your love. You admired that about him. Most men — Aquilla included — would question you about your feelings for him, but the General kept his composure.

Making the bed, you looked at him over your shoulder.   

“I am sorry… I am tired. I…” You gestured towards the bed, “I think I will just sleep now.”

He nodded.

Still no answer.

That made you slightly worried, but you were so tired right now — emotionally tired —, drained even, that you shook your head and climbed under the blankets. He stood by the door of the bedroom and turned off the lights as soon as you adjusted the pillow under your head.

You would have said goodnight, but you decided to mimic him and keep your words to yourself. He was probably already gone. You closed your eyes and hummed to yourself — it was either that or end up crying again and even if you were sure he was not in the room anymore, you did not want to risk getting caught moping pathetically once more.

Once — twice, thrice and many other times — was enough.   

He did spoke, however. And what left the General’s mouth would probably hunt you for the rest of your life.

“Thank you…” he whispered, and your eyes shot open, in alarm. He was still in the room. “Thank you for your honesty today. Good night, (Y/N).”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's all for today, kids!
> 
> I know this chapter ended different than everyone would want (and from what I panned as well), but I assure you it's needed for the plot and for their relationship as well. Sorry xD
> 
> I won't say anything else, I'm tired and I think I'll just make a quick edit for this chapter and simply fall on my bed for days to come. On a good note, since my vacation start tomorrow, I'll have more time to write and fix the many mistakes in my last chapters xD 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl, there you will see more about this fic and the gifs I enjoy making for my stories!
> 
> PS: Guys, I've posted In the General's Bed. As I said before, it's a Regency story. If you like the theme, do drop by and tell me what you think! xD
> 
> See you on Friday!


	7. Up & Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi xD
> 
> I wanted to have this chapter posted earlier today, but I lost myself watching Uruguay x France (a pity Uruguay lost, in my opinion they had best campaign in the World Cup so far) and later Brazil x Belgium (we lost, sadly. At least it wasn't another 7X1 xD and really, although madly in love with football, I know that Belgium played better... I cried a little and that's the beauty of football, one day you win and the other... And 2022 is right there on the corner and hopefully I'd be able to watch all of the games drinking my loved Irish beers) so I couldn't have it finished before the match. But here I am now...
> 
> Again, I have no words express my gratitude. You're all wonderful readers and I love every bit of attention you give to this story. Thank you for all of your kudos, bookmarks and hits. And reviews too (0MidnightWing, chasingwookies, Sis8eneg and Millicent) you guys are the best.
> 
> This chapter is a gift to thephelpstwins. Thank you for the amazing, beautiful and wonderful aesthetic. I loved it VERY MUCH. I hope you like this chapter!  
> You can the aesthetic here: http://thephelpstwins.tumblr.com/post/175442553517/nymphl-lie-to-me-armitage-hux-x-reader 
> 
> Happy reading!

“AGAIN.”

It was official. You. _Kriffing._ Hated. Him.

Your body was about to give up, but you did as he said — commanded, _whatever,_ he was in full General mood and you were never so sure in your life as you were right now that you could not take any more of it — and positioned yourself for one more push-up. Your arms trembled; you knew you were about to fall on your face if you did not stop right now, but he was a merciless coach.

That… or he was very pissed off with you.

“Again,” he said once more, his voice clear and unwavering.

_Definitely pissed off._

You huffed.

 _I can’t,_ you would have said, if you could open your mouth. You just pressed your lips together and inhaled sharply through your nostrils. Maker, you just wanted this to end quickly.

He wanted you to ask for his mercy. He wanted you to beg him to stop.

It was clear that in spite of the fact he expressed gratitude for your honesty five nights ago, he was far from happy — _or grateful._ He seemed one to hold a grudge for — like forever seemed a fitting definition — a long time. And he would never forgive you for being honest with him — he would not forgive you if you had lied either. He would not forgive you. Period.

You bit your bottom lip and forced yourself up and down. If your body resisted for a few more push-ups — it had to —, you would be done with it and he would have to swallow his pride and compliment you for your effort. After all, he was the one to start the day by saying — _mocking, actually_ — he was eager to know if your training skills had improved after training with him for four days — or how far you could go before your face hit the floor and you completely gave up — just like you did the last few days.       

But he was in for a great ride if he thought you would just give up like that.

You were tired of being mocked, tired of his silent treatment. Whenever you were at home, which was very little time — because you too were avoiding him —, he would shift all this attention to the _blasted_ _datapad_ and refuse to talk to you. It was driving you mad! Why couldn’t he just say he was angry — hurt? — that you said you loved Aquilla instead of him?   

_He was just insufferable!_

Sweat tickled down your face and gathered at your chin. The fact that it was a very hot day did not help you the tiniest bit. With great effort, you breathed through your nose and let the air escape your mouth. There was a reason why you always hated exercises and the weather in Dantooine did not help in the least.

“Stop,” he said and at his command — how you hated it — your body fell limply on the ground.

You placed both hands under your face, using them as a pillow. You would gladly die in this very moment. A contented sigh left your lips as you closed your eyes. Every single bone and muscle in your body sang at the sensation of not being pushed to its limits anymore.

He cleared his throat. The sound made you snap your eyes open and stare at a tree nearby. 

“Are we done for today?” you asked; your tone betrayed yourself. No matter how angry you were at him, you simply could not take it anymore. Hopefully he would leave you be.

_Please, tell me we are done._

“One hundred sit ups. Now.”

“Really?”

The words just escaped your mouth before you could control yourself. You knew how much he disliked when you questioned him, but you could not help yourself.   

He did not give you an answer, but the way he moved to place his feet on each side of you, a few centimeters apart from your hips, made you realize he was not joking. Did he ever joke? Did he know the meaning of such word?

You doubted.

“Give me a break,” you begged, not really caring about keeping your composure anymore. You still had to work and how were you supposed to perform your duties if your body complained at every movement?

“Two hundred sit ups.”

“You can’t be serious!” You rolled on your back and faced him. His eyes were still that icy blue, but the corner of his lips, slightly curved upwards, made it clear he was having fun at your expense.

_Bastard._

“How I hate you,” you muttered in Ryl, forgetting for a moment that although not fluent, he too could speak the language.

He narrowed his eyes. His lips now pursed into a thin line.  

“Would you like to do three hundred sit ups, Mrs. Hux?”

You did not give him an answer — you doubted he would appreciate any apology coming from you — and instead positioned yourself the way he wanted you, very careful not to touch any part of his body — even his clothing. He made sure you understood how of a merciless trainer he could be. If any of your movements came out slightly wrong, he would make you start anew. And you could not have any more of that. Two hundred sit ups were too much as it was.

“I asked you a question, Mrs. Hux.”

“No…” you replied, begrudgingly. “Please, no…” And realizing he would only be satisfied if you addressed him properly, you added, “General.”

You were not sure if this time you saw the commissures of his lips tilting upwards or if your mind was just playing tricks on you.   

“On my mark… Three, two, one, go.”

*******

Apart from the first day of that rigorous training with him, in which you thought you were going to die, you have never felt this tired. You thought that maybe it was the combination of physical fatigue, little sleep and emotional distress.

Despite the fact he asked you to be truthful and actually thanked you for your honesty, he could simply not deal with your answers. And now you felt guilty for saying what was in your heart.    

It seemed that whatever little advancement the two of you had made in the last few days was now all gone to waste. Your relationship was full of ups and downs and you were not sure you could take any more of it.

Unintentionally, you found another difference between Aquilla and the General. Contrary to your husband, Armitage Hux did not know how to voice his feelings — but he knew very well how to voice his anger, even if not how you would expect.

You knew that if any conversation between the two of you were to take place you would have to force it. He would not come to you willingly. But you knew it would not happen tonight.

Tonight, all you wanted — needed — after you were done with your shift at the Hospital, was a relaxing bath and your bed. For the first time, you expected he would have made dinner, so it would be one less task to do. And if he did not, you would go to bed hungry. You just needed some rest.

It did not help that for the past few days you could barely sleep. He would not join you in the bed — you bet he slept even less than you did, if the state of the bed indicated something… — and the only time he did, he stood as far away as possible as the small bed allowed. Neither of you slept that night.

Both of you lay with your backs to each other and when you shifted positions, you lay on your back, hands over your stomach, facing the ceiling — not for the first time you thought that perhaps you should fix the roof, for as soon as the rainy season started the house would suffer with leaks —, you could hear his breathing and feel his warmth, but you did not dare reach out to him. What would you do or say if you did?

You adjusted your bag at your shoulder and rested your head against the door of the changing room. You could always sleep at the Hospital… You would evade him and his training next morning…           

The idea was tempting and although you still resented him for forcing your body that much, you needed to come back home. The odd stares you received the whole day and the sensation of being closely followed made you uneasy. Even if he was not the most welcoming of companies, you felt safe at his side — even when he pushed tour body at the brink of exhaustion.

At first, you thought that maybe they knew what happened. They knew you killed a guy — although you were not the one to pull the trigger, his blood lay on your hands as much as his — they had to know. Or maybe it was just another member of his faction following you…

The very thought made you shudder.

You hugged your frame as you climbed down the stairs; the night breeze caught you by surprise. Days were usually hot in Dantooine and nights could either be equally hot or chilly. It was definitely the second — that or he put you in too much strain and you were getting sick.

Not for the first time you caught yourself thinking how much you hated him.

And not for the first time either you admitted to yourself — willingly — that if this rift between you were to be mended, you would have to take the first step. He would not do it himself.

You wondered if he had been in a relationship before, because it certainly seemed otherwise. He would know that his behavior would lead nowhere — and yours too, to be honest. And to think you told him the two of you had been married for three years and half… _As if…_ You could barely look at each other’s face after a minor disagreement — or whatever it could be called — and not even a month of companionship. 

_Oh, for the maker!_

You shook your head, decided to leave such matters for when you got home. You were not that sure anymore if you would go straight to bed or have _that_ conversation today. You looked around, scanning your surroundings carefully.

That nagging sensation returned. You felt followed.

Biting your bottom lip, you removed his blaster from the holder in your hip — you were not even sure why you were carrying it around; perhaps you were still afraid he would kill a civilian? You simply could not let him light the spark of a Civil War in Dantooine — and hid on a dead-end alley.

You held your breath and started counting. You were not sure if you should attack first or wait; you simply had no idea how to act. You thought about Aquilla — he would certainly attack first and ask later; he would never kill someone, but he was not against injuring his enemies — and the General — would he attack or wait? He was so difficult to read.

Your heart was beating so madly and quickly in your chest you had to strain your hearing to notice the approaching steps.

Not giving it much thought, you pointed the blaster towards the figure and fired. You prayed you missed any vital points. The very thought of killing or badly hurting someone — even if an enemy — was too unbearable.

It was impossible to see if you hit your target or not, for the lights chose that moment to flicker out, leaving everything in the dark.

You held your breath and put your finger on the trigger again. If your assaulter moved, you would fire again.

A landspeeder Gian V-44 nearby highlighted the entire alley and relief flooded you as you recognized your stalker.

A sigh left your lips.

“Oh, it’s you.”

The relief was short lived though. For as soon as you were left in the dark once more, you felt him attacking you. First the blaster was knocked out of your hands, then both of your arms were put behind your back and he pushed you against the wall; his chest glued to your frame, one of his hands on your throat — what was with him and enclosing his hand around your throat? — and his breath tickling your skin.

“What did I say about letting your enemy know your weakness?”

You pursed your lips on a thin line.

“You are my husband,” you replied, not even trying to remove yourself from his grip. Even if he were your enemy — _he is!_ you corrected yourself. As soon as he knew you were lying to him, you had no doubts he would have no problem killing you, with or without that talk of being his weakness — it was impossible to hide your aversion to taking a life.  

The street lights flickered in again. He turned you to face him. The movement was so fast you felt your vision darkening for a second.

“You are the nagging sensation,” you said, looking at him in the eye. A sigh of relief left your lips as you brought your fingers to his face.

He had shaved.

You thought that was a pity. You rather enjoyed the feeling of his growing beard against your skin whenever you kissed, or he decided to put you against the wall and press his face on your neck and jaw.

But what struck out the most in his appearance was his raised eyebrows. It was clear he had no idea what you were talking about.

“You were not…” you trailed off. _Kriffing hell!_ It could only be someone of the faction. You shook your head and decided to change topics, “What are you doing here?”

He did not give you any answer. He continued to stare at you as he removed a strand of hair from your face.

“You were followed,” he stated, icy eyes focused on you, daring you to lie. His fingers still around your throat; they traced windpipe slightly and moved to your clavicle.

You would have to ask some day what was with him and keeping a hand on your throat. It was clear he enjoyed having power over you, but he seemed simply fascinated with that area of your body.

When you felt him placing the blaster back on your holder, you gasped. Not because of his act — well, also because of that, but mainly because of the meaning of it —, but because you realized he was touching you again.

Did it mean he was no longer angry with you? Willing to finally talk to you?

Instead of relief, you found yourself getting mad at him. He had no reasons to be angry with you in the first place. And you simply hated how much — and how contradictorily — he made you feel.  

“What did you do about it?”

“What?” You furrowed your brows. His question caught you off guard. What did he want you to do? “Nothing, what was I supposed to do?”

“For starters, trust your instincts and fire without fear,” he whispered close to your ear. His tone was nonchalant, but his fingers dug in your hip and his jaw brushed against your face had you gasping.               

“I could have hurt you,” you replied, breathing deeply trough your nose. He either had no idea what he was doing to you or he knew exactly what he was doing.

He snorted against your ear, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. You trembled in his arms. When his lips trailed your neck and his hand inched slightly up, you could not help but moan.  

“You are so easily distracted,” he said, his lips on yours, hovering, but quite not touching. He pressed you against the wall; you could feel every single detail of his body. When you moved both hands along his arms to his neck, you could not help but notice he was wrapped with different fabric than your husband’s clothes. There was no time to dwell in this, for he continued, “It’s no surprise you could be so easily stalked.”

You felt highly offended by his words, but once again you had no time to express your thoughts, for as soon as the lights went down again he finally kissed you.

It was brief, almost chaste. A mere brush of lips in a leisure rhythm that had you eager for more. With your fingers entwined in his hair, you tried to deepen the kiss, but he held your wrists between his hands and broke apart. It was as if he never meant to kiss you for real, he was merely trying to prove his point…

…which he did.  

With a sigh, you pressed your face against his shoulder, trying futilely to hide your embarrassment.

A minute or so went by in silence. All you could hear was the calming sound of your breaths and the other noises the city had to offer. In spite of the situation it was a peaceful moment. You tightened your arms around him, bringing him even closer to you. He embraced you back a little awkwardly — as if it was a foreign situation to him.

There, in his arms, you saw your previous anger and chagrin with his actions — his refusal to talk to you about his feelings — dissipate. You realized how much you missed him…

…which was very dangerous in itself.

It was not like you missed a close friend — he was your enemy. You had to remember this. _He was not your ally._ And you were a fool for think otherwise.

A fool for missing him.

A fool for being angry — hurt even — at his silent treatment.

A fool for feeling your heart clench at the mere thought of losing him forever.  

You tightened your arms around him a little bit more and tried not to dwell on this. All in due time. But it was difficult not to feel so divided… Part of you thought that it was only natural to feel something for him, right? He was the only consistent company you had for the last years. It was to be expected that you got attached to him. But part of you considered your actions foolish and negligent. You were better than that.

“Are you still pissed off with me?” Before you could control your tongue, you saw yourself asking. Even if his answer was not what you expected, you had to now. It was killing you to think that he only touched you or decided to talk to you because he wanted to prove his point.  

There was no answer. He kept his words to himself, but you did not let it discourage you. In the darkness, it was easier to be honest with him.

“Because I said I…” You took a deep breath. “Because of my feelings for Aquilla.”

He did not say anything, and you feared you did something horrible. Perhaps that was not the best way to approach the subject. You tried to move away from him, but he did not allow you to, his nose buried in your hair.    

“I am sorry.”

There was silence for a few more seconds. He did not move. He did not speak. You thought that maybe you should either nudge him gently towards your home, where you could talk with more privacy or change subject. Perhaps ask where he got those clothes… They were so very different from the clothes your husband usually wore…     

“I hated Aquilla. I have always hated him,” he admitted, his voice low. He moved away from you, keeping you still within his reach. He surprised you, for you did not expect him to be so open about a topic he evaded for almost a week. “At first, for his popularity in the Senate, then because he had you.”

 _I was not his property_ , _I am no one’s property,_ you felt like saying, but it was not always that he spoke so frankly; you were afraid he would stop altogether if you gave voice to your thoughts right now. You swallowed your pride and nodded.  

“He became my first enemy.”

His words had you shuddering. Does it mean he considered you his enemy as well? It should make you happier — if he saw yourself as such, you had no reason to keep lying and you could move on with your life, far away from his and all the problems you were certain he would bring to you and upon Dantooine — but it made you miserable.

After some minutes passed in silence, you bit your bottom lip. Perhaps you should clarify the matter further. You open your mouth, but the words to leave you were quite different from what you planned.     

“Just because I said I loved him doesn’t mean I hate you or don’t feel anything for you.”

You expected him to stay quiet as usual, instead, he urged you on with the most impertinent of the questions.

“And what do you feel for me?”

You bit your bottom lip. If he made you sweat with such simple — although unwanted — question, you could only imagine how it felt to be interrogated by him as an enemy. The very thought sent a chilly shiver up your spine.

Your eyes moved from his to the floor — their blue color as intense as ever — as you looked for some sort of getaway. You never wanted an interruption so much before.

It’s impossible to know who were more shocked when the words — a soft, confused murmur — left your lips. For in that moment you realized how screwed up you were.   

“I-I don’t know…”

_…But I do feel something for you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... that's all for today, kids!  
> What can I say... Hux shaved and is wearing new clothes. Where did he get them? What is he up to? And poor Reader is getting more and more confused with her feelings for our bad *memoriless* guy. And who is following reader? 
> 
> You will see that I have changed the status of 7/21 chapters to 7/28. I'm not sure if it'll have 28 chapters or more, but I do intend on writing a bit more of this fanfic, so I hope you don't mind and stay with me throughout this journey xD 
> 
> You can the aesthetic thephelpstwins made for Lie to Me here: http://thephelpstwins.tumblr.com/post/175442553517/nymphl-lie-to-me-armitage-hux-x-reader 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl, there you will see more about this fic and the gifs I enjoy making for my stories!
> 
> See you next Friday!


	8. Right & Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! 
> 
> As promised, here I'm with the next installment of Lie to me: Right & Wrong.
> 
> This chapter came a bit lengthier than I expected (and I did take out an entire scene), but I couldn't do much about it. Sorry xD  
> I wished to update it sooner, but I was really unsure about it. I moved a bit with the plot and inserted some things that will make sense in later chapters, and for that next chapter will be mostly focused on Hux, or else it won't make any sense. 
> 
> I also realized I committed a mistake in this fic, a misplaced information, which I'll talk more about in the end notes. Btw, I changed the Rating to M. This chapter has some steamy moments, but I don't think it needs an Explicit rating. I don't think it suits this story, to be very honest xD 
> 
> As always, I have no words to express my gratitude. 102 kudos! You're amazing, guys! Thank you very much! And also thanks to all hits and bookmarks and everyone who took their time to leave me a review (Venix, bitch hips, cherryart, Millicent and Sis8eneg). 
> 
> This chapter is a gift to cherryart. Thank you for reviewing all my chapters. You're a darling <3
> 
> Happy reading!

_KRIFFS!_

You should not have said that. You should have kept your words to yourself; your thoughts should have stayed deeply buried in your mind.

Yet, you had to voice them.

You had to say what should have never left your lips.

He froze in your embrace; his arms sort of slackening around you. In response, you tightened your hold around him and inhaled his scent. He smelled nice. And it was not just because he had bathed. There was something else…

As if on cue, the streetlamp near the two of you flickered in again and this time the light shone upon you. You took a step back and caressed the fabric of his shirt. A frown marred your features.

You even opened your mouth to ask where he got them, but he held your hand and, in silence — because he never explained himself, you quickly noticed this — pulled you out of the alley.

He guided you in the streets northwards, tracing the way back to the Hospital. If possible, your frown deepened. What was he doing? You knew that given your current physical state, it would be useless to make him stop with your hands; even his pace — which was not that fast — left you utterly exhausted.  

“My house is on the other way,” you pointed out, voice a bit higher, so he could hear you over the sound and sight of people parading on the streets as if some sort of festival was taking place.

You shook your head and planted your feet firmly on the ground. Still holding his hand, you pulled him more forcefully than necessary, forcing him to look at you over his shoulders. His eyebrows were raised. It was clear he did not understand your actions.

“Please don’t take me to the Festival,” you whispered. Your felt all blood drained of your face. The mere thought of taking part — even seeing it — made your stomach churn. You trembled. “Please I—

He shifted his attention to you, holding your face between his fingers. He eased his thumb over your bottom lip, preventing you from punishing it further. When he was sure you would not bite yourself any longer, he removed his black coat and placed it over your shoulders.

“Which Festival?”

Relief flooded you. And some warmth returned to your body — and certainly not because of his coat.  

“You aren’t taking me to the Festival?”

His lack of answer was answer enough. A sigh left you as you closed your lids and breathed deeply through your nose. Your nostrils flared; the smell of food was so strong it was almost nauseating. The sound of drums was getting louder and louder as the passersby walked past the two of you singing and playing their instruments.

The General held you closer — and you begrudgingly admitted he was getting good at this, even if it still seemed awkward to him —, not letting you go even after it was just the two of you in the darkened streets again.    

“Thank you,” you whispered and broke away from his grasp.

He held your shoulders, giving them a slightly squeeze, “I was taking you to the speeder bike.”

 _Speeder bike?_ You did not recall having one. Well, you once had a _landspeeder_ when Aquilla was still an Emissary to the Senate, but that was so long ago, you even thought the model probably had been dismantled and its parts used power-up other speeders.

As expected, he gave you no further explanations as he guided you to a shiny speeder bike and handed you a helmet. You accepted it willingly — the first question on your tongue was whether he had stolen the vehicle and whom he had killed to have it, because apparently the words ‘ _murder’_ and ‘ _General Armitage Hux’_ walked hand in hand.

A shiver ran down your spine as you mounted it and embraced him by the waist firmly. You had lots of questions, but for now, you would have to wait. It is, at least until you got home. What mattered the most now was to stay away from that damned Festival and the fanatic people who usually attended it.

*******

The way back home was silent and almost peaceful. After almost five years walking by yourself everyday — you had no vehicle, so you had to walk if you wanted to go anywhere —, the velocity of the speeder bike left you a bit dizzy. However, he was a smooth driver and although you would rather have your feet firmly placed on the ground you could not complain after getting home in record time.

He was the first to disembark, offering his hand to you shortly after. As soon as you slipped the helmet out of your head, the first words came to life in your mouth.

“You left home.”

It was no question. You knew it for a fact, but you wanted his confirmation. He had barely nodded before you open your mouth to assault him with all the questions that were bombarding your mind.

He silenced you with a gesture. It made you bit your bottom lip, in anger. Even if you lived alone for five years — in which you took care of yourself and became your own rightful owner —, it was difficult not to go back to some old habits your father had taught you. If a man — any man, but mainly your husband — is speaking you should not interrupt him and if he wants to speak you should be silent and pay attention to him.

That… Or the General indeed knew how to command every attention…

…which he did.

It did not mean your own actions left you less upset than you were right now with him.

Shaking your head, you trailed your way to the door with him right behind you. As soon as you opened it, you were assaulted with the smell of food and the sight of lights all turned on.

You furrowed your brows, but before you could shift your attention to ask him what had happened, a protocol droid bowed dutifully in front of you.   

“General Hux and Lady Hux, welcome back.”   

The entire situation left you agape.

You closed and opened your mouth once and twice, not really sure what you should say. The General was right behind you, mere inches apart, but his warmth enveloped all of you. He said nothing — as you expected — so you forced yourself to ask, “Do we have a protocol droid now?”

“I am D-Five, at your disposal, my Lady.”

“Where did you get him?”

You were not sure if he did not want to respond or if the protocol droid — a modified version of the popular 3PO series — was too nosy, but he never had the time to come up with a reply. The shiny droid took your bag from Hux’s hand and started making his way towards the bedroom.

Needless to say, you were left speechless at the state of the entire house. Instead of the messy living space you were used to, there was a tidy, welcoming home.

“Did you do it all by yourself? Did you have any help?” you asked, running a finger over the headboard of your bed. The wood was so clean and lustrous it seemed it was new.

You looked around and was shocked to realize how much space you had. The house seemed much bigger than it actually was. You shifted your attention back to the protocol droid and accepted the towel he was offering you.

“I took the liberty of preparing you a relaxing bath, my Lady. General Hux said you would arrive tired.”

He did not give you any time to come up with any sort of thanks.

“The dinner is also ready, and I fixed the electricity problem.”   

You furrowed your brows.

It made no sense whatsoever.

“You’re a protocol droid, not a domestic droid.”

“A protocol droid is created to serve its owners in any way they see fit, my Lady. It’s a pleasure serving you and General Hux.”

That lead you to another question.

As you heard no signal of your husband around, you approached the protocol droid and whispered to him, “And where did the General get you?”

If D-Five thought of a reply, you did not know, because at the same time _your_ _husband_ entered the room, his bluish eyes narrowed.

“You are dismissed, D-Five.”

“General.” The droid bowed dutifully. “My Lady.”

You watched the whole scene with arched brows. It simply made no sense. The entire day seemed like a ridiculous dream — nightmare? You started the day by being trained — tortured, you had no other word to his training sessions — by the General and then you felt watched your entire shift at the Hospital, and when you left you were ambushed by the General himself, only to find out he _was not_ the one following and watching you throughout the day. Then he kissed you — leaving you wanting more — and you realized that you were not as immune to him as you wanted to be.

As you believed yourself to be.

As if that was not enough, the two of you almost entered a Festival whose meaning and importance you did not want to acknowledge right now. He brought you back home in a bike speeder that came out of nowhere and when you got home there was a protocol droid waiting for you with the house in one piece — in fact, it was in better shape than you had left it when you went to the Hospital that morning — and with the necessary repairs you have been postponing for what felt like your entire life now.

Could this day get any weirder?

The first words to leave your mouth were not to question him about any of this, but instead to chastise him on his impolite behavior.

“You should have thanked him.”

He looked at you as if he had never heard anything stupider — and that was a habit of him that you more than hated. He stared at you as if you were a very different alien almost twice a day. It was insulting! — and removed his coat.

“ _It_ is a protocol droid. _It_ exists to serve. _It_ doesn’t need thanks or compliments for doing what _it_ has been programed to.”

You simply hated how he stressed the word _it_ every _kriffing_ time. You felt like saying you thought that D-Five was courteous — even if a bit creepy —, but stopped when he pulled his shirt over his head.

“What are you doing?” you asked while turning around. The quick movement made your vision go blurry for a moment. You realized you really needed to feed and get some sleep. Your body would not go far if you kept that insane routine.

There was no need to look at him to know he had that impossibly blue eyes of his narrowed — the thought in his head was certainly of how stupid your complaint was. You heard his steps before you felt him touching your shoulders. It was with some difficulty that you did not jump startled.

“You should bathe before the water grows cold.”

From your part there was only a nod.

Albeit unwilling and unsure — mostly unsure —, you let him help you removing your own shirt. You wore a black tank top beneath it, which you would remove yourself in the fresher. And _would_ was a rather good word to define it, for he did not wait for you to move and merely hooked his fingers under the article of clothing and pulled it over your head.

A sharp intake of breath left you as he traced his fingers over your nude shoulder-blades and then placed a small kiss on your nape. You trembled in his arms and subconsciously leaned against his warmth.

Your back was met with his chest. You closed your eyes as a shiver went through your entire body. It seemed as if thousands of butterflies danced in your stomach as he leisurely traced your forearms, till he reached your hands and brought them to his neck, forcing your fingers to entwine in his ginger hair. All the while he never stopped showering your shoulder and scapula with small kisses.

Part of you — the rational and sane you — screamed at you to put a stop to this madness. Another part — guided by the deep craving you felt —, begged you to let him continue with his assault to your senses. It had been so long since you last felt this relaxed in a man’s embrace… besides you were too tired to put up a fight right now — and you were not really sure you wanted to.

Not when he used his fingers to lift your chin — and put his hand on your throat — and guided you in a soft, even if lustful, kiss. You should — and would — feel ashamed later when you realized you were the first to deepen the kiss and slip your tongue inside his mouth, tasting him — the first to let out a moan.  

The sensory overload made you gasp inside his mouth when he left your throat — such a pity, you were getting used to his show of absolute power over you — brought both hands to the front of your breasts and touched the opening of your bra. They did not remain there though, slithering through your skin to your hips, pulling the strings of your breeches to let them pool around your feet.

It was as if you had not realized you were almost naked — you had never gone that far! Last time, when you demanded him to kiss you, you were mostly clothed — in front of him. He was still kissing you — fiercely this time — and you still had your fingers entwined in his hair. He left you no choice but to follow his lead. He was demanding and thoroughly dominated your mouth, leaving it — leaving you — at his mercy.

He positioned his hands on your hips brought you against him, causing you to brush against his erection — _Maker, he was hard!_ —; and groaned in your mouth. He bit your bottom lip lightly before drawing apart. His breath tickled your neck as he whispered against your ear,

“You should bathe. Now.”

Craving his attention — his lips, his warmth, his body pressed against yours; _his cock deep inside of you_ —, you grounded against him again, eliciting a quiet moan from him. He bit your earlobe and planted a small kiss behind your ear.

“Unless you want me to bathe you later.”

His husky — _needy_ even, you were not sure which of you had fallen deeper for the baser instincts — voice coupled with how his fingers found your clit and expertly handled it had you snapping out of it.

You nailed him and shook your head.

It took you a while — and a moan, he was thoroughly good at it and it was with some regret that you had to stop him — to find your voice.

“S-Stop.”

He did not need to be told twice. He removed his fingers from your undergarments and stepped away.

You looked at him over your shoulder, avoiding his eyes. You kept your attention on his chin and lips, which was a terrible mistake — you realized quite soon — for he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean. Eyes widened, you looked at the entirety of his face, only to find his bluish orbs focused on you. They were of a darker shade of blue and hid nothing of his lust.

It was obvious he was grimly struggling, but he kept away from you nonetheless. He respected your space as you asked him to.

“I am sorry,” you whispered. “I am so sorry. I can’t.” You backed away towards the refresher; your eyes on your feet. You doubted you would be able to look at him in the face without blushing for a while now.

_You could barely believe you had let it go that far!_

“I think it’s best if I…” It was struggle not to place both hands on your face and shake your head in shame. “Alone… I mean…”

You stopped making a fool of yourself and closed the door behind yourself. You hit your head against the wooden once and twice. Your thundering heart almost made it impossible to hear him approaching the refresher. He did not open it, which brought you some relief, but his whispered words left your heartbeats in a mess all over again.   

“Of course you do.”

You were not sure what he meant with those words and even less sure if you wanted to figure it out.

*******

Dinner was a quiet, awkward event.

You did not raise your eyes from your plate, afraid to find his impossibly blue eyes focused on you — to find the wrong judgment of your actions. You knew, however, he was staring at you and that at some moment you would have to face him. If not now, you would have to do it when the two of you retired.

It was obvious he would not relinquish his place in the bed tonight.

The mere thought made you gulp.

Part of you was also afraid of the questions he would start asking soon. Last time had him asking if he was imponent, and after finding that such assumption was not the case — in a very scandalous fashion that had you blushing now at the remembrance —, he inquired you about his ability to create life — and yours too.

What followed that was a heart wrenching moment that you had no desire to remember in its entirety.

You shook such thoughts away and finally — with some internal struggle and a heart beating madly against your ribcages — cast a glance at him. To your surprise, although he was looking at you, he did not seem focused on you. Instead, he seemed lost in his own little world.

A sigh escaped you.

If you did not question him, he would question you. And you did not even want to think what he would ask you this time.

“Where did you…” you started, your voice small and very low. The words came out almost as whispers. They were enough to make him shift his attention to you and focus those blue eyes of his on you. You bit your bottom lip. You hated how he always seemed able to read your very soul with a mere stare. “Where did you get the droid? And the clothes? And the speeder bike?”

He did not give you an immediate reply.

As _kriffing_ expected.

Instead, he gestured towards your plate in a silent question whether you had finished your meal. You nodded, and he removed the tableware, placing it inside the sink. You expected him to either wash it or start talking. He did neither.

“My Lord?”

He turned to face you. His eyes on your face as he started, “I have some credits in accounts that are unknown to the First Order”.

You gasped.

That could mean…

Did he already expect to be betrayed by his kin?

Or nothing… That could mean nothing. And you were just aiming high.

You bit your bottom lip and waited for him to continue.

He did not.

“You bought them with those credits,” you finished for him.

Well, that was… less than what you were expecting. But you were relieved that was the case. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted off of you. Walking towards the sink, you were ready to wash the tableware when he chained your wrists with his hands.

You looked up at him, brows furrowed. You knew there was more to come, and you could only hope for the best.

“I found the site where the battle took place.”

You looked up at him, surprised because he opened up to you and because he let immediately go of your wrists. He took two steps away, but if you were to have this conversation, you had to look at his face.

Biting your bottom lip, you did your best to control both your facial expressions and your messy heart.

It was impossible to know what scared you the most: if the idea of him finding that you were not his wife or the possibility of him taking a life while you were away.  

“Did you find anything?”

“Wreckages and destruction,” he replied curtly.

You approached him, invading his personal space. You found yourself entwining your fingers together. Your thumb slightly brushing his pulse. It did not go unnoticed by you how you were at easy whenever you touched him and how you always did it when you were talking.  

“What more?” you whispered to him, looking at him in the eye.

His blue, icy orbs never seemed so distant nor more impossible to read than in that moment. Even if his warmth encircled and involved you, he was never so cold. It was if Dantooine suddenly became Hoth.

“My Lord?”

He disentangled the fingers of his right hand and brought it to your face. This time he did not brush against your throat, and merely brushed his thumb against your lower lip. It was a little swollen, a courtesy of your early kisses.

“These clothes belong to the First Order,” he replied nonchalantly. “There was no information whatsoever concerning the attack.”

That made you let out a relieved sigh.

It did not go unnoticed by him, but he did not say anything. Instead, he smoothed a strand of your hair between his fingers and placed it behind your ear. His eyes were thoroughly focused on your lips, which made your heart beat faster.

He was seriously not considering the possibility of…

…Again…

_Right?_

“The speeder bike…” you offered, not willing to stay a moment in silence. “Where did you get it?”

“The Syndicate.” That was another emotionless reply. One that had you widening your eyes and your breath coming out in a gasp. It took you a moment to realize he had left your side and was heading towards the bedroom.

“No.”

This time you did not turn away when he removed his shirt and folded it. You walked to him and touched his elbow. He immediately turned to face you.

You lost no time to trace the recent scar across his chest. He tried to remove your hands from him, but you waved him away and continued what you were doing. It was a terrible wound and whomever gifted him with it knew what to do. If you did not find him in time, General Armitage Hux would be just yet another story now.

It covered most of his chest. Starting right below his clavicle and ending after his last ribcage. If you had any bacta left, or could take it from the hospital without arousing suspicion, it would be less noticeable.  

“If you deal with them, they will do worse than this,” you whispered, against his warm skin. Your hand stopped right over his heart. It beat in a calm rhythm and your words did not seem to affect it in the least.

“Are you implying I cannot take care of myself, (Y/N)?”

The coldness in his tone made you look up. His eyes were as frosty as his voice.

You tried not to get intimidated by this and continued with your inquiry, “Seeing that you came back unscathed… Did…” You bit your bottom lip lightly. “Did you kill anyone?”

“You were not there to see.”

A slap could not have been any harsher.

You opened your mouth to say something — anything, he had to understand your concerns! —, but he beat you to it and added, “You can be at ease. I did not kill anyone.”

A sigh of utter relief left you.

He did not know how heavy your heart was right now. His admission had it feeling so much lighter now. You knew that whoever he killed — whoever lives he reaped from now on — it would be all on you.

It did not matter he was the one to pull the trigger, you had your share of guilty as well.

“Thank you,” you whispered again and broke apart. Part of you was apprehensive with his whole story and some piece, deep inside of you, did not trust his words completely. He was hiding something.

_But so were you._

Perhaps you should let him have his secrets as well. Perhaps you should not worry before the time came… Perhaps you should… give him the benefit of doubt? If he said he did not kill anyone, then maybe he did not.

And why would he hide it from you?

It was not like he was shy about taking lives.

Contrary to you, he did not hesitate to pull the trigger.

_Did he ever?_

A yawn left your lips. You were so tired you doubted that his company — his body next to yours — would be much of a hindrance tonight. You would sleep like a sated baby.

He did not allow you to go far, though. Holding onto your wrist, he brought you back to the comfort and warmth of his arms. You placed both of your hands on his shoulders, ready to keep him at bay in case he tried something else. It did not seem to faze him, for he buried his nose in your hair all the same.  

“Why were you so tense at the thought of the Festival?” His voice was no more than a soft murmur as he placed a small kiss to your neck.

This time there was no shiver, no butterflies dancing in your stomach.

There was nothing.

You froze in his arms.

That was certainly a topic you did not feel like revisiting.

Not tonight.

Not now.

Not with him.

_And possibly not ever._

He seemed to have understood your reaction, for he did not press you further. Instead, he took you by your hand and lead you to the bed. You watched in silence as he pulled the blankets aside.

It was not comfortable. It was not awkward either. It was merely eerie and depressing — at least for you it was.

The fact that his bluish eyes were not on you — accessing you, judging you as you kind of expected and was already used to — made it even harder.  

You thought about apologizing — that was definitely not how you intended on finishing your day, but that was simply unavoidable — but stopped yourself. If he were in your place, he would not give you the same curtesy and besides, that was probably an admission that would drive him further apart from you.

As if you had just awakened from a dream, you started helping him with the bed. The two of you moved in sync, adjusting the pillows and sliding under the blankets at the same time.

You turned your back to him and closed your eyes when he turned off the lights. Sharing the bed after so many years was no easy task, not when you were used to have all the space to yourself, but you knew you would manage. You expected him to shift to his side as well, but he did not.

Seconds in silence become minutes and you found yourself turning to face him. You supported your weight in one arm and outstretched your finger to poke him in the chest, but retreated shortly after.

It was obvious he was not sleeping yet. However, touching him and invading his personal space was maybe not the most recommended course of action to take.

“My Lord,” you whispered.

“You never say my name,” he observed. Once again, there was no trace of judgment in his voice and you could not see his eyes, which left you conflicted. Part of you thought it was for the best, he could read easily read you with those blue orbs of his and another part was not sure you wanted to keep a conversation where you could not face him and guess — because you never knew for sure — his thoughts.

The silence was sepulchral. That was a topic you did not want to discuss. If it depended on you, it would stay untouched; a big bantha in the room looming over you.

You shifted, adjusting your weight in order not to hurt your arm. He did the same and lay facing you. Both of you had your heads in the same pillow, sharing the same space and the same air. You could feel his breath on your face and a knot took place in your stomach.

“A-Armi… Armitage…” you tried. The word felt foreign in your lips. You had said it out loud only once… or twice before and neither had that same intimate connotation. You brought your hands to his face. It felt even foreign touching him and feeling no traces of his growing beard. You smoothed your fingers on the planes of his cheeks, tracing the contour of his nose and moving back to his jaw. “Armitage,” you repeated, your voice firm, even if lower this time.

He lost no time to crash his lips against yours, taking you by surprise. Your hands moved back to his chest — to keep him apart, to pull him closer, you did not know for sure. His made their way to under your shirt, tracing patterns on the small of your back.

Unlike earlier, they did not move higher, they caressed you innocently. His knee parted your legs as he settled between them. Your foot traced his calves and moved higher, bringing both of your hips closer together. He did not take your silent — and subconscious — invitation to grind against you.

He kept his distance, kissing you almost chastely. As if you were something precious, he ought to worship. It made you feel worse than you felt when the two of you had that steamy, lusty moment earlier.   

You even opened your mouth to beg him to stop, but your throat was already closed with the need to cry. And cry you did. You buried your face against his chest and he ran his fingers through your hair in another awkward attempt of calming you down.

This seemed to throw a bucket of cold water over his head.  

“Sorry, I can’t…” you whispered against his skin.

His heart was beating faster this time as he moved away from you; his lips kissing your tears away in a soothing manner.

“It’s just… It’s not right.”

He remained silent for a moment, holding you while you cried even desperately. For each tear he kissed away, more came to take its place.   

Twice or thrice, or even more times, you repeated that it was not right. That _it_ — the two of you — could not be.

_Could never be._

He never said anything. He held you close and ran his fingers on back, comforting you. He had moved away from you, sitting with his back against the headboard and you in the comfort of his arms.   

You dossed in his embrace, no tears tainting your face anymore, when you heard his voice against your forehead.

“No, it’s _not_ wrong.”

And when he thought you were not listening, he added, as if he had solved one of greatest mysteries of the galaxy,   

“You’re not afraid of intimacy, (Y/N). You’re afraid of enjoying it… With me.”

  

 

    

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's a huge chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it, kids!
> 
> Hux did have a meeting with the Syndicate and the plot thickens a bit xD and Reader doesn't like the Festival taking place in Dantooine. I'll explain it in later chapter. I did write the scene, but the chapter had almost 7k and I thought that was TOO BIG and decided to leave it with +5k, which is already more than I usually write for this fic. 
> 
> As for my mistake. I did say that Aquilla Syndulla was a Senator back then in the Galactic Senate, well... I finally had some time to read Star Wars: Bloodline, by Claudia Gray (if you haven't read it, please do! it's an amazing book!) and I saw that Ryloth was an independent system back then, which makes sense, considering how they suffered in the Clone Wars and later under the tight and merciless reign of the Empire. So he couldn't have been an Senator. I know it's a Canon Divergence and I don't have to follow everything that's considered canon, but I thought that it'll make sense in the future, when this story catches up with TLJ. 
> 
> Also, by fixing that (I did change the chapters in which they said Aquilla was a Senator), I'm bending the canon a bit, for Lady Carise says in the book she didn't see Brendol Hux after the Battle of Jakku (at the time, Hux was but a child). It means Brendol Hux and Armitage Hux himself were never in the Galactic Senate to begin with. By saying he were, it'll make more sense in the future and the past (Hux's reasons to destroy Hosnian System for example) as well. Sorry for such mistake. If I had done a better research before, this wouldn't have happened. In my defense, I must say I do understand way more (concerning Star Wars Universe) about the Clone Wars period xD. I'm not a huge fan of the sequels, but I do think the idea of First Order (and actually how the fall of an Empire, succeeded by a flawed Democracy that functioned the same way the Republic was before the Rise of the Empire, and then the fall of this very Republic and the Rise of another form of Dictatorship) is very interesting and is completely relatable to our history. 
> 
> For those who read In the General's Bed, there was no updates this week because I was reading Bloodline and doing some research for this story. Sorry xD
> 
> Well, I think that's all. 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl, there you will see more about this fic and the gifs I enjoy making for my stories!
> 
> See you next Friday!


	9. Cheap & Expensive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! xD
> 
> I did my best to have this chapter updated yesterday, but sadly it was not possible. I barely see my mom on weekdays, so we two decided to have a few moments to ourselves. But here I am today with Cheap & Expensive.
> 
> It's another big chapter, almost 5k, so I hope you like it. Unlike the chapters so far, this one has some scenes in Hux pov and I hope I did him justice. You know, he's not the easiest character to work with xD And there's another character from the canon series that I love as well.
> 
> As always, my biggest thanks to every bookmark, every hit and kudo and, of course, your reviews (LaFemmeFatale, 0MidnightWing, cherryart, Solena, Millicent, Bitch Hips, venix, anonymous and Sis8eneg). Your kind words made my day! I love you all xD
> 
> This chapter is a gift to each reader who have encouraged me to keep writing this story. And for the anon in tumblr who said to love drama and how I ended last chapter. I hope you like how this chapter ends as well! xD
> 
> Happy reading!

ARMITAGE HUX HAD DARK CIRCLES UNDER HIS EYES. EVEN IF HE DID NOT REMEMBER, HE LOOKED PRETTY MUCH LIKE HIS OLD SELF — OF NOT EVEN THREE MONTHS AGO.

Besides that, he sported a busted lip and — he wondered how many — a few broken ribs. At least, he managed to put his nose back in place — or the guys who broke it in the first place did. The pain was not nearly unbearable, but he could not recall the last time he felt so battered.

 _Probably a long time ago,_ he mused, spitting the blood in his mouth. He closed his eyes and let his head hung low. Albeit the scalding sun of Dantooine was not up there in the sky to hurt his clear irises, the darkness made it almost impossible to distinguish the path they were taking him.

It did not mean he was unware of his surroundings.

He had trained all his life in the Academy of his home planet — and although he knew from the beginning he was destined for great things, he did not miss even one of the trainings, Rae Sloane made sure of that — for situations like this. Arkanis Academy was known to push their soldiers harder than any other planet loyal to the First Order. Simulations in which one the cadets were deprived of one, sometimes more, of their senses were almost a daily event. By the end of the last year, only the best were fit to serve the Order. And obviously, he graduated at the top of his class.    

Later, as he climbed the steps to the very top of the First Order, he never turned down a mission in which he had to risk his life. He was not sure he could trust anyone who could not risk their lives for the cause.  

Of course, to be beaten like that bruised his ego. It had been a while since he last saw himself in an analogous situation. But that had to be done.

Hux was a never someone who expected immediate results for anything in life — and even less when it was something of greater importance. Unlike Ren — and even Phasma —, he was a very patient man. Now that he had some of his old memories back — not all of them, but some very important ones — he recalled how this trait came in hand when he needed it the most. Hell, it took him almost twenty-five years conspiring in the shadows to have his father killed and rise to the very top of the First Order.

And if he could wait so long to get rid of his sire — his darkest, deepest desire — he could wait to talk to the head of the Dantooinian Syndicate.

It was with a sharp intake of breath that he firmed himself on his knees when the four men escorting him threw his battered form to the rough ground. He spat the bitter earth from his lips and cursed when one of them threw a bucket of cold water on his face.

“What is the meaning of this, morons?”

Hux opened his bluish eyes only to be met with an alabaster, wrinkled face of someone he — and the entire galaxy — thought to be dead.    

*******

_You’re not afraid of intimacy. You’re afraid of enjoying it… With me._

A sigh left your lips as soon as you opened your eyes. You could not sleep even a bit and when you finally started to drowse, you heard your husband leaving the house.

You could have asked where he was going; you could have tried to stop him. Instead, you let your head hit the pillow and sleep claim you. Only to wake up not even half an hour later worried about him.    

Honestly, you knew that whatever he was doing, there was no stopping him. Besides, you were not sure you wanted to see his face anytime soon. And you had to get some rest if you were to even live for another day.

But it was getting increasingly difficult. His words — _his voice_ — would not leave you alone.

_You’re afraid of enjoying it… With me._

Right now, what scared you the most was not the fact he was right. The prospect of getting intimate with him and enjoying it still terrified you. Enjoying what he could do to you. A small, silly part of you thought of that as cheating on your late husband — even if he was dead. However, what made you lose sleep at night was the idea of him getting closer to the truth at each passing day.

_For the Maker!_

You got his pillow and brought it to your face, smothering a frustrated scream.

Earlier, when he said those words, you could not bring yourself to give him an answer. He did not seem to expect one — actually, he probably thought you to be sleeping and you let him believe so. It took him some minutes to lay you carefully on the bed, leave the room and, shortly after, the house.

Part of you wanted to just give in and get him out of your system. But you were smarter than that; that notion of getting over someone after getting physical with them was ridiculous, not to mention impossible. You had feelings for him; the depth of them was still unknown even to you — and you had no idea if you wanted to know. To acknowledge you felt something was already too much. To think about their nature would be torture.

If you just… if you gave in, you knew there would be no going back.

_Kriffs!_

You let go of his pillow — his scent was making it difficult for you to think straight — and sat on the mattress. You would work. That was the only and definite way to get him out of your system for at least a few hours.

*******

If the cold water they threw at his face had not washed whatever drowsiness he may have felt, the sight of Aurra Sing certainly had. An infamous name in the underworld, everyone believed her to be dead back in the early days of the Empire.

Hux, however, did not let the shocking news take control of him. It was no surprise that a bounty hunter outlived those who wished them dead.

Still on his knees, hands tied on his back, he eyed her with rapt attention. She had aged — not that he had met her before, but both in Arkanis and in the First Order they had files concerning the most famous criminals of all systems, mainly those who had served the Empire —, her face was wrinkled and her once auburn hair was tinted white. As white as her alabaster skin. The sharp planes of her face, however, remained. Her green eyes were as cold as his and the glint of pure arrogance they sported almost made Hux snort. But that was just the surface. There, in the depths of those orbs, he could distinguish it.

_Fear._

That was how many of his enemies stared at him in the past. That was the feeling he enjoyed seeing in them the most. Only those who had never seen — and savored it — it in his enemies’ eyes, would ever consider respect and loyalty above fear.

But he was not there to make new enemies.

“Beckett died believing he had finished you off,” he said, his voice firm and controlled. He did not show an ounce of fear. His reaction — or lack of expected reaction — seemed to please her.

She threw her head back and laughed.  

“Oh, hon, many of my enemies did.”

There was silence for a second. It was thick and tense. Hux would have squared his shoulders, if the pain of moving even a bit was not excruciating.   

“Uncuff him,” she ordered, leaving her throne.

It took him less than a few seconds to notice what they were made of. As white as her skin, it was clear the throne in which she sat — in which she commanded the very Syndicate in Dantooine — was made of bones. Her enemies’ bones.

The shadow of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Rae Sloane would like her — the woman hated whomever did not follow the rules and thought that people like Aurra Sing were an unnecessary evil in the Galaxy — if not her illicit activity, at least for her audacity.

“I said uncuff him,” she repeated, using a walking stick to firm herself on her shaky legs. Hux stared at her through narrowed eyes. “I swear, you get stupider by the day.”

Her voice made all four of her thugs to tremble in fear. And just like him, Hux discovered she reveled in that feeling. It made her feel powerful.

They obeyed her, nonetheless.

But not without pushing him towards the ground. Amirtage used both hands to support his weight, preventing his face from meeting the soil. The action made his whole body ache. He straightened his back and grimaced; he could bet he had more than three broken three ribs.

“Help him to his feet and bring him to the dining room.” She had already turned her back on the five of them. “And give him something to clean his face. I would hate to stare at his blood while I have my breakfast.”  

“Mother!”

The four interjected at the same time. But their plea fell on deaf ears. Aurra Sing was certainly not a woman to give any man power over her. And that’s exactly why she lived to see another day when most of her friends and foes alike met their deaths.

“You can’t trust him,” one of them pleaded. He, a specimen of the duros, had his hand on Hux’s shoulder, pressing his fingers hard on his flesh. He pursed his lips into a thin line. Being held in place by a cybernetic limb hurt more than he thought — that or he was truly out of shape.

Rae would be extremely disappointed in him.

“Right now, I trust him more than I trust any of you!” She turned to face them, her walking stick pointed to the one who spoke. She opened fire against them and in no moment looked any closer of losing her balance.

That made Hux’s lips tilt upwards slightly.

_As expected._

So far, everything was happening exactly as he had planned.

“Firstly, you bring him to our hideout, risking everything Cad Bane and I worked for the last few decades and now you expect me to trust you over him?”   

“He killed one of ours!” the Duros replied. His voice was slightly louder. High-pitched. And Hux realized that he was no more than a boy.

He could have added that he had killed three of them. The one who invaded his house and threated his wife, and later two of them while he searched for some information concerning the failed attempt of the First Order of ruling Dantooine.

_You can be at ease, I did not kill anyone._

He lied.

Not exactly. But he did not tell the truth either.

He had not killed anyone that specific day — and her question referred to that day alone — but that was not the first time he had gone out and looked for the missing pieces that could help him restore his lost memories. Of course, he could do it without killing someone, but he wanted to draw attention to him and drawing attention he did.  

And here he was.

“Any man stupid enough to seek a member of the First Order when I clearly told him not to, is _not_ one of ours.”

Her answer left them agape. Out of respect — and fear — they fell to their knees. At the same time, Hux rose to his feet, flexing the fingers of his right hand. They were still numb; he could feel the blood slowly returning to its place.    

“You’re all stupider than I presumed you to be if you think you captured him and brought him to me.”

The four of them were silent. But it was not necessary to hear their voices to know they were confused; her words did not make any sense to them. 

“He. _Kriffing._ Played. You. All.” She threw her hands up, as if silently asking for a lightening to come and strike everyone in the throne room. That made Hux smile openly. “You brought him here because he wished to be brought here and not the other way around.”

As she pushed past them, she could not help but hit them with her walking stick — a blaster actually.

“Get out of my sight!”

*******

His face was clean and even though his lips were swollen, he still could taste the strong taste of the Corellian Rum offered to him. The alcohol made the cut in his skin burn, but he brushed it off. It has been some time since he last had some proper Corellian Rum and he was not about to dismiss it that easily.

Not when his host was watching his very movements carefully.  

“I hope you do have a hidden weapon with you,” she started, placing both hands under her chin. Her green eyes were narrowed; their intense color sufficient to make a grown man tremble, but not Hux.

Not someone who had been stared at that way since he could remember.

“Oh, darling.” Aurra laughed, and the sound was slightly annoying even giving their distance. “I am highly disappointed on you now.”

They were currently in a vast room with a huge table. They both were seated on the extremities of it and domestic droids rushed from one side to the other to serve them. He brought his glass to his lips once again and sipped his drink.

“You think because I’m all wrinkled and old I am unable to defend myself.”

She shook her head and snorted. She chewed her food slowly, taking her time to analyze Hux and his very movements. She knew she was being analyzed as well and that different from him, he did not fear her in the tiniest bit.

“Beckett believed so and here I am now and do tell me, General, where is he?”

There was no answer from him, which made her lose some of her composure. He mimicked her action of a few minutes ago, chewing his food slowly and then bringing the cup of rum to his mouth in a leisurely pace.  

Part of her did want to say he was committing a mistake — seeking her out and trying to undermine her forces in front of her men — but she was not stupid enough to believe he was alone. Surely, someone of the First Order was backing him. As for the girl — Aquilla Syndulla’s wife —, he was most likely using her to gain information on the Resistance. Only a fool would think he had feelings for her. A man who had decimated an entire system did not know the meaning of such word.

Aurra almost felt sorry for the girl. And she would have, if she did not have her own Empire to take care of. She had no time for a stupid woman who decided to save a man who should be dead by now. A stupid woman who refused her help when it was offered. Aurra still recalled how she asked to be left alone when she offered a shoulder for the girl to cry on after the passing of her husband.

No.

The damned girl could die for all she cared. She had an Empire to rule and rule it she would. But part of her admired the girl. It took someone courageous — or very naïve — to help a General of the First Order. Did she have no fear at all?    

Aurra, for one, had never feared anything. She had fought in the Clone Wars, she had worked for the Empire — she had seen that same Empire fall — and had become a fugitive when the New Republic took the reins of the Galaxy. She had survived it all, but she had never seen something like the First Order. An organization with so much power and money that building a weapon capable of destroying an entire system seemed child’s play. A force unlike any other she had ever seen in her long life.

 _For the Maker_ , they had invaded Dantooine and they had _almost_ conquered it. Did they plan on conquering it at all? She had her doubts.    

“I have known men like you my entire life, General.”

She expected him to say she did not, that he was different and some bullshit like that — men always enjoyed showing how much powerful they were; it only got more noticeable when they dealt with a much older or younger woman. It was with some surprise that she realized he would not say anything to contradict her.

He was playing her. And he was enjoying it immensely.

“You think you have all the cards in your hands and that you can bend the rules of the game.”

He lowered his glass to the table. The sound echoed in the empty room, making Aurra flinch slightly.

“It is because I can.”

*******

It was pitch dark outside when you finally opened the door of your house, removed your bag from your shoulders and placed it over the dining table.

A contented sigh left your lips as you looked at the food on the plate, the steam leaving it made your mouth water. You had not realized you missed having a droid so much in your life. The house was clean — cleaner than it had ever been — and the smell of fresh dishes was surely a good point about owning them.

Your stomach growled, and you lost no time to get a spoon and taste the soup D-Five had prepared. Or was it Hux? As you tasted it, you knew the answer.

Definitely Hux.

You furrowed your brows. You thought he would be mad at you after yet another refusal of… well… _bedding him._

“Oh, Lady Hux! There you are!” The droid’s robotic greeting startled you. “Welcome back!”

You placed a hand over your heart and let a sigh leave your lips.

_Kriffs!_

“Thank you, D-Five.”

“Why would you thank me, Lady Hux? I merely did my job.”

You even thought about explaining yourself, but decided against it. You brought another spoonful to your mouth and thought about asking where Hux was, but again, decided to leave it alone. He was either in the refresher or outside.

Perhaps it would be best if he were outside. You would fall asleep before he returned and there would be nothing to discuss.

_Perfect._

It is, till you noticed D-Five holding a small recipient with a clear and gelatinous substance inside.

_Bacta._

“What are you doing?” you asked; spoon halfway towards your mouth. You lowered it back to the plate and straightened your back. “D-Five…”

“General Hux said I should not tell you anything.”

“Where is he?” You took some steps towards him and he mimicked you, stepping backwards. It would be funny, it is, if you were not worried-sick. You were out of _bacta_ for a while now and if the General did have it with him, it was because something _terrible_ happened.  

“The refresher?” the droid said, his tone that of a question. “For the record, I did not tell you anything, Lady Hux!”

Your heart was thundering in your chest as you entered the bedroom. It was empty. The General was nowhere in sight. It took you a while to hear the shower running over the sound of your loud heartbeats.

His privacy was the least of your concerns as you tried to enter the refresher, only to find the door locked. You were not surprised to see the trail of blood on the floor. 

“My Lord?”

There was no answer from him.

“Amirtage!”

You were ready to break the door when he opened it. He stood by the threshold, his nude form only covered by a towel hanging on his hips. You looked for any signs of a missing limb, but apart from his busted lip, you could not find anything.

Subconsciously, you threw your arms around him.

A small hiss escaped him, but kept silent. He placed both hands on your shoulders and moved you slightly away. His cold stare made a shiver run up your spine.

“I saw your blood all over the floor,” you said, touching his face. His busted lip. “What happened?”

He did not give you an answer and instead moved away from you. He walked towards the wardrobe and got some clothes. You followed his movements with furrowed brows. He pulled a shirt over his head and it was impossible not to notice how he flinched slightly. Soon, he let the towel fall to the floor and put on light trousers.

This time, you did not close or eyes or turned around. Your eyes remained on his back, staring at the scars that graced the extension of his shoulders and continued down, till they disappeared in the limits of his waistband.

He turned to you, but instead of looking at you, he brought his fingers to the point right under his chest.  

“Did you…” You bit your bottom lip. “Did you break your ribs?”

His lack of answer was answer enough.

You shook your head and started searching in your belongings for something to give him. The _bacta_ D-Five was holding just before would do it — and you thought that a medical droid would come in handy one of these days.

A sigh escaped your lips as you approached him and pulled his shirt, trying to get him out of it. He helped you, his face showing just a hint of discomfort. That was a mask, you knew. It was impossible for him not to feel at least some pain. Not with the extension of his past and recent injuries.

You touched his ribs as if he were the most fragile thing. It was easy to tell he had two broken ribs and at least two or three more were slightly bruised. The area was a bit swollen, but he had had worse. It would take only a few days for him to be in perfect condition. It is, if you got him to have some of the _bacta_ in D-Five’s possession.

As you examined him, he remained impassible. Part of you wanted to scrub his skin raw, so you would get some reaction of him.

“It’s nothing.”  

“If you bled then of course it’s something.”

There was a moment of silence between you two. It was obvious he was analyzing you through those thick ginger lashes of him. His cold stare made a shiver ran up your spine.

You guided him to the armchair and forced him to sit down.

“You went to the Syndicate, didn’t you?”

His lack of answer made you get angry with him. You pressed your fingers against the swollen area more forcefully this time, yanking a loud gasp from him. He trapped both of your hands between his and pulled you to him.

“Armitage!”

You were the one to gasp as you fell over him. As if aware he would not let you go, you adjusted yourself over his lap, placing both legs around him and cautious about not letting all your weight press him down. He let go of your hands and touched your face, his thumb over your bottom lip.  

“Until yesterday you would not say my name,” he said. He was so close you could feel his fresh breath. “Today you have said it twice.”

“You did not answer my question,” you reminded him, squirming in his hold. He grimaced, and you recalled he was hurt. “Sorry.”

“I did,” he replied in a low voice. He placed his hands on your waist and leaned against the armchair, his eyes closed. “My ribs will heal. D-Five made me drink some _bacta_ already.”

A relieved sigh left you. You would have to thank the droid later.

“I asked you not to go,” you whispered, running your fingers on his face. His eyes snapped open. “I told you they would do worse next time.”

“You never said why.”

_Do I have to?_

“Why did you do it?” You barely noticed your palm was on his chest, right over his heart. You could feel his cadenced heartbeats and it somewhat calmed you. “Why did you look for them?”

He took his time to reply.

A gasp left you as you felt his warm hands inside your clothes, his fingers running over your belly and the small of your back. He did not seem interested in taking your clothes off, but the intimacy of the moment made your heart accelerate.

You bit your bottom lip.

“The man who entered our house was not a part of the Resistance,” he said running his fingers through your clothed thighs now. You drew in a sharp breath. His lips were on your neck, lavishing it with kisses and love bites. “He and the stalker were part of the Syndicate.”

This time, you were the one to take your time to reply.

“I thought so.” You did not give him any time to say anything else. “But you paid a too high price looking for them.”

He snorted.

“There is no such high price to keep you safe.”

You barely realized the two of you were now sharing the same air. He moved his lips from your neck and was not almost kissing you. His lips were almost on yours.

“Kiss me,” he demanded, his eyes fixed on your lips. “Kiss me, (Y/N)”.

You did not know what possessed you, but your lips fell on his in a passionate kiss. You bit his bottom lip, seeking entrance, which he gladly conceded. This time, he let you dominate the kiss. _Dominate him._ Your fingers found their way to his ginger locks and you used the opportunity to angle his head to your better pleasure.

His hands were working to remove your upper clothing. You were so concentrated on his lips — and what you wanted to do with them; where you wanted to have them —, you barely noticed his fingers over your nude skin.

A gasp left the both of you — you from pleasure and he probably from pain — as he forced you to grind against him.   

“I want you,” he whispered when you broke apart. He gave you no time and his lips attacked your neck, biting the skin slightly. His hands moved to your ass, griping you forcefully and set a punishing rhythm between your hips.

A moan left you. Your fingers were on his shoulders, your nails breaking his fair skin. Part of you wanted him to fell pain and stop — for you were not sure you could stop him —, but that only served to yank a groan from him and actually encourage him to remove your bra.    

“I want you so much.”

You did not give him an answer, for his lips were back to yours. You could feel him through his trousers. So. _Kriffing._ Hard. You knew he could feel how wet you were as well. _How needy._

“I know you touched yourself yesterday,” he whispered before enclosing his lips around your right nipple. You felt your face warming all over. _How did he know?_ No, that was the wrong question, _why did you do it to begin with?_ All coherent thought left you when he nibbled your left pearl with a bit of force — the right being manipulated by his expert fingers — and later blew some air into it. “I know you want me too.”

“I do,” you admitted in a whisper. Your breath heavy against his ear. “But we can’t. You’re hurt.”

The General let you go. Begrudgingly but he did — he always respected your wishes, even if he wanted nothing but to continue what you were doing. You stepped away from him, both arms covering your breasts; they were smeared with his saliva. It made you shudder.   

He watched you through narrowed eyes. He, too, were breathing heavy. It was not needed to look down to know how tight his trousers were. You felt it before — and you did not know why you stopped him when all you wanted was to feel him inside deep of you — there was no need to see it.   

“That’s not the only the reason.”

You furrowed your brows. Your heart was thundering in your chest. You shook your head and stared at his face — you did not realize you were actually staring at his… _well… cock._ You licked your lips and shifted your attention back to his eyes. His pupils were full blown with lust.  

“Of course it is,” you whispered, this time staring at the floor with interest. A gasp left you when he approached you, his warm fingers running over your arms and removing them from over your breasts. He did not touch you _in such way_ — mindful of your earlier request —, but he lifted your chin, forcing you to face him. You bit your bottom lip as his hands found their way to your nude waist and pulled you to him.   

“You’ve been avoiding me, because, in truth, we’ve never been intimate.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I think my notes are way too big. I'm sorry!  
> Well, that's it for today!
> 
> Now... This is Aurra Sing. I know that Solo: A Star Wars Story said Beckett killed Aurra, but... a lot of people don't just die in SW, so I decided to bring her back. Anyways, a few characters from the past and from other media will make an appearance as well. I hope you don't mind.
> 
> Now... Hux did recover some of his memories. What does he know? What does he recalled? I'd love to hear your thoughts xD
> 
> This chapter would end very differently, but I thought I could leave that for next chapter. You know... Before I ended with a 8k chapter hehe. On a light note, at least I have the draft of next chapter already done! I promise I'll update chapter 10 - Old and New Alliances next Friday. I just returned to work this week and I got too busy with other stuff and couldn't update. Sorry xD 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl, there you will see more about this fic and the gifs I enjoy making for my stories!
> 
> See you next Friday!


	10. Too close & too far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! xD
> 
> I apologize for the late update. I tried to come up with chapter 10 sooner, but only now I could finish this installment.  
> I also apologize for not being able to reply to your reviews (venix, anonymous, cherryart, bitch hips, Yuukinna, SassMasterJedi, Sis8eneg and Millicent). You guys rock! Also, my thanks for those who left me kudos, bookmarks and increased the hits xD
> 
> This chapter is a bit longer, and I know the last few chapters were long too, and I hope you don't mind. I think they all are going to have this length. Before you read, I've to say that the scenes in this chapter are not chronological. Two of the scenes are between Hux and Aurra and they are snippets from last chapter and they explain previous or upcoming scenes, not necessarily in this chapter 
> 
> This chapter is a gift to two readers from tumblr: onehipstertorulethemall and thephelpstwins. I hope you guys are feeling better. I love you two! 
> 
> And also for @anolympianhero. Thank you for your kind words. 
> 
> E pros brasileiros, pelo amor de deus, parem de falar tchacha tchaca na butchaca", isso é tão anos 80/90 I can't even... mas se é isso que vocês querem, nesse cap tem mais um tico disso! Eu to é #MORTA com vocês!
> 
> Happy reading!

AS A GENERAL OF THE FIRST ORDER, AMIRTAGE HUX WAS NOT A MAN USED TO WAIT FOR THOSE BENEATH HIM TO OFFER ANY EXPLANATIONS. THEY SIMPLY DID, _IMMEDIATELY._ NO QUESTIONS ASKED, NO POSTPONEMENTS.

He ordered; people obeyed.

Aurra Sing, on the other hand, believed she was something else. If not above him, at least his equal. The corner of his lips lifted in the hint of a snarl.

She feared him, sure. But that was not enough to make her bend the knee. She was not yet where he wanted her to be. Where he _needed_ her. 

“I owe you nothing,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her green eyes were narrowed; her white hair usually held up in a tight ponytail was disheveled, a few strands falling from its confinement. “I will never do anything for a dog of the First Order.”

He did not say anything to contradict her — as she half expected. In a few hours in his company, she found out the General was not as unpredictable as she thought he was. For starters, he was not one who enjoyed small talk and he did take fairly well to any sort of insult.

Better than most men she had ever encountered in her life, at least. But they… Those were typical men. If anything, she learned that Amirtage Hux was no archetypal human male. It made her wonder if he had been raised — at least partly so — by a woman.

She could go on for hours insulting him and she doubted he would ever say anything to diminish her. A General, for sure, but also a gentleman — she wondered if he would not insult her back because she was a woman, an elderly woman or both. Either way, his lack of proper response — at last the one she was expecting — both infuriated and amused her. However, it also made her understand a bit more of the man behind the mask; Hux was certainly not used to exert power over others by lessening them — which was either incredibly smart or foolish of him, she could not decide just yet.

He was a _very weird_ male.

“If you think of yourself more than a dog, then you’re more foolish than I thought, General.”

Again, there was silence on his part. This time, not even the hint of a snarl made itself noticeable on his face.

Aurra chuckled.  

He surely was confident man. All this time, while she talked, he was looking for any weaknesses to exploit. And all she could think was that he was either too smart or too _kriffing_ foolish. Did anyone ever tell him that while doing his research he was left vulnerable for those who wanted to read him as well?

“I heard you now live with Mrs. Syndulla…” she started, resting her chin over her joined hands. She did not know where this could lead her, but she expected somewhere less boring than the General himself. And actually, the girl had to prove herself valuable at some point. Up to now, all she had been was a huge _bantha_ in a room. Useless but impossible not to notice. “How is she faring? Did she get over her husband’s death?”

No snarl.

No nostrils flaring.

No lips pursed into a thin line.

The only visible reaction was his narrowed eyes — which, honestly, was more than enough for a woman as experienced as herself. By now, she noticed the General was not a man to express many emotions, not to her at least. She wondered if his behavior was any different with people he trusted — with those of the First Order.

A small smile titled the corner of her lips.

The girl.

Yes. That was it.

The rumors were true. Aurra was not a woman to believe rumors, but this time she knew they rang truthful. The General not only killed the man — one of hers; she snorted, it was difficult to believe such a foolish creature was one of hers — who threatened the girl, but he was also spotted with her in the streets near the hospital. And if her mind did not fail her, they were caught in a very… _compromising_ position.       

He was… for the lack of better term, _obsessed_ with the Syndulla girl — love was a too strong word for people like them; its meaning escaped those of their likes. It was impossible to know — to deduce with such simple reaction from him — how deeper his feelings for her ran, but there was something there… If he did not feel anything for her — if not an obsession — he would not have done his best to keep any response at bay.

Aurra’s green orbs mimicked his.

“Tell me, General Hux.” She licked her lips, eager for any kind of reaction. “When the time comes, who will you choose?” she paused and looked at her glass, only to find it empty. “The Syndulla girl or the First Order?”

This time, his nostrils flared visibly.

It was clear she had hit a nerve. A small chuckle left her dried lips. She waved her hand and the droid approached with a new bottle of the same Corellian Rum they were having earlier.

“Let me rephrase it: when the time comes…” She brought the glass to her lips, sipping the drink slowly. Savoring as she would do with his next reaction, “…can the Syndulla girl choose you over the Resistance? Will she?”

*******

You could barely feel your heart.

It stopped for a brief moment, then sped up, galloping against your chest. As breathless as you were, you could feel his breath coming out of him effortlessly, caressing your face.  

You completely forgot your naked breasts — and how exposed you felt a minute earlier — or his warm fingers against your waist, holding you close. All you could feel was his nose brushing against yours and the ungovernable pull you felt towards his lips.

It took you less than a few seconds to kiss him — and even less to stop at his lack of reaction. You were so high on his scent, on the closeness of your skins pressed together and the arousal running through your body, you could barely remember his words. Or the fact he had a few broken ribs. If anything, now your heart was ramming against your own ribcages with want.

As soon as you drew apart, he took your lips again. It felt as if he only waited for you to stop kissing him, so he could take the lead and do what he knew best: _dominate you;_ having you at his complete mercy. His right hand wrapped around your throat and his thumb pressed against your windpipe softly. You moaned, making it easier for him to slip his tongue inside your mouth and deepen the kiss. It bordered on crazy how much you enjoyed his little displays of power over you.

He backed you against the wall and wrapped your legs around his waist. Your hips were, once again — to your complete relief, you could not take any more the ache, the _burning sensation_ in your core —, moving in flawless sync.  

A groan left him when you arched your back, offering more of yourself to him. Your breasts fit his left hand perfectly; the hard nub handled between his skilled fingers in the sweetest torture. His right hand was gripping your ass, coordinating your movements against him — the exact cadence to give your clit the pressure it desperately needed. And his lips had left yours to attack — lavish and castigate with kisses and alternated soft and harsh bites — your throat. 

From your mouth poured only lovely sounds of pleasure that stirred him on. Your eyes fell closed on their own accord as you savored the bliss of the approaching orgasm. Your legs quivered around his waist, your thighs gripped him tighter. In tune with your body, he did not change his rhythm. Even if you wanted him to rub you faster against him — you did not have any force left within you to do it yourself; your head thrown back in complete abandon. All you could do was hold him by the shoulders —, he did not seem in a rush to make you climax. On the contrary, he seemed to want to delay it, or at least drag it as much as possible, making the explosion all the more pleasurable for you; the experience unforgettable.

He was torturing you and thoroughly enjoying it.   

His lips left your throat and enclosed around your nipple, trapping it between his teeth. His hand returned to your throat, applying the right pressure to leave you breathless. You gripped his hair forcefully, seeking leverage for a brief moment, then returned to his shoulders as your eyes snapped open and a sultry sound you did not recognize as being yours — a moan? A groan? His name? — left your lips as a powerful sensation racked through your body.   

You sank your nails deep in his skin and you discovered that while you enjoyed having his hand around your throat, cutting your breath short, pain brought him pleasure. He ground his hips against yours once more and a guttural sound left his lips.

Both of you stood in silence for a moment. The only sound was that of your ragged breaths in the bedroom. The General rested his head between the valley of your breasts. He left your throat and trapped both of your hands against the wall. You squirmed in his hold, but that only served to make you rub yourself against him.

A breathless moan left your mouths at the gesture. In spite of his coming, he was still so _kriffing_ hard. You shuddered. And bit your bottom lip.

He kissed your chest, right above your heart — his lips took their sweet, glorious time with your breasts, bestowing upon them the softest of the caresses — and lifted his head to yours. A gasp left you as you saw his bluish eyes — you thought that you had never seen him as vulnerable as in that moment.

His ginger hair was all disheveled, covering his eyebrows and brushing against his lids. You gulped. He never looked as gorgeous and attractive as in that moment. You freed your hand from his and brought it to his strands, moving them away. Although his breath was already back to normal, yours was not and when you eased the furrow between his brows, you felt your heartrate become a mess all over again.

You opened your mouth, but closed it shortly after, unable to find your voice.

He lowered his head to your chest again, kissing your breast one more time and unwound your legs from his waist. You felt so weak you could barely stand by yourself, so he held you close; his warmth made you feel… _wanted_ and not _only_ in a sexual manner. The arousal, the desire, the hunger, the _need_ _and want_ was obvious, but there was so much more than that.

Losing no time, you kissed him. At first, merely brushing your lips against him, then taking him more properly as he allowed you to. It was brief, very brief… not lasting more than a few seconds. In your heart, though, it lasted an eternity you would cherish for the rest of your life.

As soon as you drew apart you hid your head in his chest and hugged him tight — completely forgetting his bruised ribs and the pained sound that left him at your gesture. It was with some sort of surprise that you realized that you were crying — once again — in his arms.

He did not try to move you away, instead, he stroked your hair and kissed the crown of your head. His own hold around you tightened.

A gasp left you as you finally realized what you felt for him.

Armitage Hux was not merely your enemy.

Amirtage Hux was not merely a General of the First Order.

Amirtage Hux was not merely the man who coveted you in the past.

Amirtage Hux was not merely the man who hated your late husband.

He was… _He is_ … You did not know how to put it, but the man you saved some time before became… something… _someone_ you always longed to return to.

_Amirtage Hux became home._

_Your home._

Eyes widened, you drew away from him slightly and looked at his face. His usual unreadable eyes were full with concern and… apprehension? He brushed your tears away and caressed your bottom lip, preventing you from bruising it further.  

It took you a while to find your voice — or even think of the right words to say — but when you did, they left you without your consent. They just… came to life in your mouth. And you had never been more truthful than in that very moment.   

“I think I love you,” you whispered, brushing your fingers against his cheekbones. You were still high on his scent, on the powerful orgasm you just shared and the beautiful moment afterwards, you barely thought about what you said or how incoherently the whole situation may have looked to him.

In one day you told him the two of you… the attraction, the lust, _the feelings_ … it was all wrong. It could not be right. And now you were confessing something you did not understand yourself.

You buried your face in his chest and mimicked him, bestowing a kiss right above his heart. He pressed you against the wall, trapping both of your hands again with only one of his and the other returned to your throat, keeping you in place. 

“Please, take me.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Take me now.”

Instead of acting on your words, he drew apart. Not physically. His hand still trapped yours against the wall and it was difficult to know where his body ended and yours started. His cock twitched. _He wanted you as much as you wanted him_. But if the way he stopped caressing your throat with his fingers was of any indication…

There was no need to look at his eyes to know they held an icy edge to them — long gone was the moment of intimacy you just shared —, yet, he held your chin and forced you to stare at him. You even wanted to close your lids, but you knew it would do you no good.

You swallowed… 

…and felt rather stupid. You regretted your very existence now.

“You should sleep, (Y/N),” he said, his words as icy as his eyes. You bit your bottom lip. “Now.”

*******

“Again.”

You breathed deeply through your nose and did as he commanded. He was above you, his feet not even inches apart from your hips as you did the three hundred sit ups he commanded you to do. You were halfway through it and you simply could not take it anymore.

If you thought he was a merciless trainer before, it was because you did not know how he would act after catching you in your lies — and to think he had only a glimpse of what was the whole picture…

A shudder ran through your spine at the thought.

“I can’t hear you counting, (Y/N).”

And some people even said that an orgasm elevated spirits and eased bad humors…

“This is getting ridiculous,” you whispered, coming to a halt. You sat on the ground, putting both hands behind yourself to keep you in place. You were sure you would collapse if you did not have something to hold yourself up. “I am not training with you anymore.”

His nostrils flared.

And certainly not because you said you would not take any more of his bullshit — you said it every _kriffing_ time you trained; _more like he tortured you._ Knowing him, he was probably mad because you did not call him _General._ What a control freak!

He pressed his boot on your stomach lightly, just enough to knock the air out of your lungs and force you back on the ground. A small smirk lifted the corner of his lips as he kept this position for a while longer.

“Careful, (Y/N).”

You could have said you hated him, or that he was such a heartless bastard — which was not far from the truth —, but you held your tongue. You shifted your attention to the ground beneath you and turned your head when you saw his blaster only a few inches away. You had no intention of shooting him, but if you had it in your grasp, he probably would surrender? It is, if only you could outstretch your hand a bit…

“Ouch!”

It was all you had time to say when he removed his feet from your stomach and placed it over your hand, crushing your fingers beneath it. You opened your mouth in a silent scream, not very keen on giving him the pleasure to know how much it hurt.

“We’ve tried that before and you failed all of your thirty attempts…” His voice made shift your attention back to him. A gasp — or pain and relief — left you as he let go of your hand and lowered himself to the ground; his thighs on each side of your hips. He was careful not to put his all of his weight on you, but the entire situation still made you feel uncomfortable. He reached out for the blaster and placed it in its holder, “…which is more than I give to any of my subordinates.”

Sending your pride to the confines of a hell as hotter as Tantooine — or even Dantooine during summer —, you brought your hand close to your face and flexed your fingers. Luckily, nothing seemed broken, but it still hurt beyond imagination.    

“It doesn’t make you a better teacher,” you replied after a while, not unconscious of the position the two of you were in. “Besides, I’m not one of your subordinates, I am your wife.”

He narrowed his eyes at you.

From this close, you could see every shadow taking over his clear irises.

“Are you?”

You closed your eyes.

_Blast!_

He would never let you go with that story of _we have never been intimate._ And honestly, you could not judge him. You would be ten thousand times madder if he were the one lying to you about something so substantial. It is… if you were in his place and not the other way around.

You took a deep breath.

It was too late to come back on your word and say you came up with a story you did not even understand the proper reasons behind it to begin with — at first, you thought about helping the galaxy become a better place without him in it. Meaning, without him being part of the First Order.

Now you were not so sure anymore.

“Listen,” you started, wetting your lips. Your eyes were back to his. He said himself you always looked away when you lied. This time, you would lie looking right into his bluish orbs. “I know it sounds like I lied…” That was _definitely not_ going how you planned. “We’ve been married for three years and half, there’s no way we’ve never…” You thought about saying _made love,_ but decided against it. The General did not come across as a man who made love to someone, even you, “…had sex.”

His eyes became a tad dark at your words. The way his back tensed and his body shifted slightly, you knew he was about to move away from you. To prevent that, you placed both hands on his thighs, keeping him in place. It would be easier to lie if he was as uncomfortable as you were.

“In my defense, you were the one to make all those awkward questions about your… sexual prowess. What was I supposed to say? What would you have me do?”

You were not exactly lying.

Well, you were… However, it sounded reasonable that you would be all flustered with those questions of his. They were, indeed, awkward and there was other way to put it. And in truth, even if he had figured out himself the two of you never had been intimate, you had no other option but to keep on lying — if you wanted to live to see another sunrise, you had to lie. And by telling the truth now, you would only enhance the chances of you getting killed.

Most important of it all, now that you had discovered you had feelings from him — you were not sure if it was really love; you could say you were drunk with all the strong emotions after that moment of intimacy between you and spoke what came first in your mind; those words did not necessarily represent the truth —, it was crystal clear you could not take him leaving you for good because of the truth.

“Armitage?”

You calling his name seemed to do the trick. He removed your hands from his thighs and rose to his feet. You mimicked him — at least tried to —, but he placed his boot back on your stomach.

“You are right, Mrs. Hux.” He wetted his lips, his bluish eyes boring into yours. A shudder ran through your spine at how intense his orbs were. You swallowed as the next words left his mouth, “I remember I read somewhere that non-consummated marriages in Dantooine have no legitimacy.”

There was moment of silence between you, as if he expected you to say the truth. As if he wanted you to apologize for lying.

Right.

Now.

A coward, you merely nodded.

His eyes returned to their unreadable color. His nostrils flared. With a motion of his foot, he made you shift position; your belly now to the floor. You bit your bottom lip and prepared yourself for a thousand push-ups.

_For the maker!_

He was going to have you killed.

“Three hundred push-ups. Now.”

*******

“I take back what I said,” Aurra Sing hummed, both hands firmly placed over her walking stick. She let out a small chuckle and shook her head. “You’re definitely different from the men I have met in the past.”

She did not look disappointed.

In fact, she seemed very pleased that the General had acted in such way. It denoted that he was not the gentleman she thought him to be. Aurra Sing _hated_ gentlemen. They pretended to behave with a woman’s best interests in heart, but in truth, they were just being stupid jerks who believed women bellow them in any capability.

By allowing — asking even — for her to shoot at the targets first, he was analyzing her ability and accuracy; how the targets moved.

“Out of twenty targets, you missed only two.” She nodded her appraisal. Only a few scored such a mark in their very first attempt. “That’s…”

“Unacceptable,” he finished for her. He put the blaster where it belonged and followed her, always mindful to keep himself two steps behind her. He looked at his right hand, flexing his fingers. He was not yet fully in control of his abilities. In the past, he would _never_ miss a target — by making such a mistake it could cost his life.      

In the long corridors of the recently rebuilt Jedi Enclave in Dantooine — she had said he was somewhat predicable, that men like him were, but she was the one to choose the most obvious place to conduct her illegal business —, there was little, to no light. Yet, he could see children running out of their sights and still poke their tiny faces in the corners as to spy on them — on him. Most of them were human, but there was some duros and a few dantari among the children.

He would have arched his brow at that — the dantari were a nomad people; it made no sense to see the specimen kids joining the Syndicate — it is, if he cared. How Aurra Sing headed her little Syndicate was none of his business and as long as she put him in contact with the Old City Boys in Canto Bight, he would never question her odd methods.  

“I’d say impressive, but as you can see, I’m old and my eyes are starting to fail me.”

There was silence between them for a moment, as Hux was in no mood to even acknowledge her joke. He flexed his fingers again, still bothered with his failure; his left hand moved to touch his ribs. She caught his movements and narrowed her eyes…

…something very precise for an old lady whose eyes were failing her.

“There’s talk among my boys that you’ve lost your memories…”

 _…Is it?_ was left hanging in the air. It was obvious she would never finish her sentence, nor mold it into a proper question.

He narrowed his eyes at her, but if she saw it in the darkened corners of the Jedi Enclave, she gave no indication.

At his lack of answer, she chuckled.

“Or…” She stopped all of a sudden, placing both hands on her walking stick with more force than necessary. “You’re smarter than everyone thought and is pretending to have lost your memories when it never happened in the first place.”

Hux remained in silence. Aurra Sing could almost say he was amused at her attempts. Well, she was dying to see how long it would take for that mask of his to fall completely.

“I wonder how the Syndulla girl will take the news… She’s a poor, gullible little thing, isn’t she?”

His clenched his jaw before he could control himself. However, no word left his lips. No word would.

“Has she fallen in love with you already?”

Once again, she was met only with silence. A small chuckle left her lips at his blank expression. It was clear that albeit in some sort of arrangement with the Syndulla girl, it did not cross the General’s mind the possibility of her having feelings for him — not romantic at least. It was well known how soft-hearted she was, how she had a penchant for broken things and Armitage Hux certainly fit the category. However, there was a stark difference between caring for and loving someone — especially someone who did not deserve anyone’s love.

The only indication that she had started moving again was the sound of her walking stick hitting the stone floor. It took him a while to follow her, but with his long legs it was easy for him to catch up with her slow steps. She headed towards a gigantic set of double doors.

“I hope you don’t mind the blindfold, General.” One of her men spoke. It was the same Duros of before, the one who said he had killed one of them. Who stated she should not trust him.

She held her hand up and shook her head.

“That won’t be necessary. The General and I have reached an agreement.”   

His lack of expression to her news surprised her, even though it should not have. He was confident, from the very beginning, that she would bow to his wishes.

_Tsk._

“I will see you in a fortnight, General.”

He nodded, entering the landspeeder. He sat between two of her men. They eyed him as if he was their prey. He merely snorted. Although he was not looking for a fight, he would gladly engage in one if necessary. He was beaten when he arrived, he was in no mood to get beaten in the exit too.     

“Hand him some _bacta_ , you morons. We wouldn’t want Mrs. Syndulla to worry over nothing.”

And for him, she spoke in a perfect Ryl that put his to shame,

_“After all, we both know you don’t deserve her.”_

*******

The sun was still high in the sky when you left the house and met the General outside. He was holding a bottle of _Tihaar_ and a cigarette was resting between his fingers. You wrinkled your nose but said nothing to stop him.

Aware of your presence, he shut off the electronic cigarette and took a sip of the _Tihaar._ He did not look at you, nor greeted you. He was facing the horizon when you arrived and that was what he continued to do.

“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. He offered the bottle to you, but his eyes remained on the distant, scalding sun.

You brought the bottle to your lips and grimaced when the strong liquid hit your throat. You handed it back to him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand — you definitely needed some Corellian Brand or something like _Jawa Juice —,_ but the very movement made you gasp. And you thought he had been harsh last week…

“Are you hurt?” he asked, finally shifting his attention to you. At your lack of answer, he placed a strand of hair behind your ear and caressed your chin. “I have been too harsh with you.”

 _Is that an apology?_ you felt like saying, but held your tongue and instead repeated your earlier question, “Where are we going?”

It was obvious he would not take lightly to any sort of teasing. Did the man ever laugh? You found yourself wanting to hear the sound of his laughter.

“We’re dining out,” he replied, making you blink. You felt your mouth growing dry at the possibility of him taking you to the Festival. “We’re not going to the Festival,” he offered kindly.

A small sigh of relief left you.

“Thank you.”

In a gentlemanly gesture, he outstretched his hand to you and you slowly put your fingers over his. He made you spin in his arms twice. When he stopped you, your back was to his chest and his mouth was on your ear.

You drew in a sharp breath, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth. He ran his hands over your nude arms, arousing goosebumps all over your skin.

“You are gorgeous, Mrs. Hux.” His voice was a bit lower; his lips caressed the sensible spot behind your ear. Your fingers entwined with his, you brought them to your throat. Such a bold action made his breath a tad heavier. “The dress suits you.”

A small smile lifted the corner of your mouth. The dress was a suggestion D-Five came up with. As soon as you left the refresher you met protocol droid’s shiny face. He held in his mechanic arms two different attires: a flowery dress and a pair of black breeches and two different shirts to match. You eyed him with surprise, but said nothing. You were afraid of asking and end up with an answer of thirty minutes duration — or more.

The droid suggested the dress. According to him — you refused to call him _it_ —, it would suit both you and the hot weather. You were glad you decided to take upon his suggestion.

It is… the General seemed very pleased you chose the dress over the breeches. You felt naughty at the mere thought of how easier it would be for him to slide his hands — or even his cock — between your thighs and touch you where you needed most.   

You closed your eyes when the General’s lips took upon yours, molding your mouth to his wishes. You even reached for his hair — combed back to perfection, not even a single strand was out of place — but he held both of your hands down and his fingers tightened around your throat.

It did not take long for him to stop kissing you. You furrowed your brows, but before you could open your eyes, you heard his voice, “Speak, D-Five.”

Now you would not open your eyes even if your life depended on it. He turned you to face him and allowed you to hide your face in his chest.

“I apologize for disrupting your moment together, General Hux and Mrs. Hux.”

You could barely see him bowing dutifully.

Talk about awkward.

“If I knew you were—

“Hand the comm to me, D-Five,” the General ordered. You felt him outstretching his hand to accept the small device.

Your heart thundered in your chest. You furrowed your brows. Was it _that_ comm? Your husband’s comm-relay? The one he used to contact the Resistance back in… back when he was alive?

Slowly, you opened your eyes. They landed on the General’s face and then on the device.

“Where did you find it, D-Five?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You were almost sure you had lost it when you moved from your last home. And it had been almost… four years since it last received a message.

The droid looked at you with a confused expression — or his usual expression, at this rate you could not tell for sure. He had no time to reply, however, for Armitage Hux snapped it open, and a small, trembling image of General Organa appeared before your eyes.

It was a record message.

An old message.

She was apologizing for not sending help to your husband and sending her condolences for his premature death.

Even if you had seen it a thousand times before, you bit your bottom lip. The feeling of the General’s lips against your temple made the need to cry even greater, more difficult to contain.

“Send a message back.”

You furrowed your brows and stared at him with questioning eyes. When he did not give you an answer, his bluish orbs focused on the comm-relay, you wetted your lips.

“Why?”

“I have some useful information for the Resistance.”

_I may have a thing or two to tell General Organa._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it for today! xD
> 
> Does Hux believe Reader or is he playing her?  
> And... what's this thing of contacting the Resistance? Whose side are Hux on? 
> 
> I'm getting used to say I didn't plan for a chapter to end this or that way, but this one was exactly as I planned. While I was writing it, I regretted last chapter's last line, cause I was... What I'm going to do with it. But yeah... It's obvious Hux knows Reader is lying, but he is less bothered by it than he should be. Is Aurra right? Perhaps he never lost his memories. Who knows? xD
> 
> For those interested, we're getting closer to the real good stuff, aka smut, but you'll have to wait a bit more. I'll do my best to update Friday at most, next weekend, but I won't promise. 
> 
> As for your reviews, I'll reply them till Tuesday at most. I'm sorry I didn't reply earlier, but last week was terrible at work. I am a full time secretary at an University here in Brazil, so I always work my ass off during the beginning and the ending of the semester. Next week is going to be ten times worse than last one... 
> 
> Thank you for your constant support. I love you all!


	11. Old & New Alliances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys!
> 
> Sorry I couldn't come up and update this chapter last Friday. I took the day off, but I was sick and spent the entire day sleeping and lazing around. Only now I could finish this installment: Old & New Alliances.
> 
> Although there's just a bit of Hux x Reader relationship (no teasing here xD) it's very important for the plot as a whole. But I promise next chapter, which I'm already writing will only have the two of them and the scene you're all waiting for! Yeap, there'll finally be a smut in next chapter. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left kudos in this story and bookmarked it as well. You have no idea how much it means to me. To all those who reviewed last chapter, my biggest thanks (cherryart, NeedsFanFics, Yuukinna, Millicent, anonymous, BellaRen, Cata_Lina and Liz) and all those who left me asks on tumblr and interacted with this story!
> 
> This chapter is a gift to anonymous (you know why) and for Sassmasterjedi! I love you two!
> 
> Happy reading!

_MOTHER OF MOONS!_

You had no idea you could tremble that much while holding a mere comm-relay. It was not even a dangerous device — his blaster for example —, but it made you more nervous than appropriate.

Those bluish eyes of his did not help the tiniest bit.

Armitage Hux stared at you with hawk-like attention, keen on your every expression and reaction. His hands were folded on his chest as he waited for you to gather your courage to contact General Organa. He was by no means that close to you, but it felt like he was right behind you, breathing hotly on your neck.

You shuddered.

And finally reached out for the Resistance.

It had been almost five years since you had last used that device; since you last contacted her — since you last needed to talk to her, only to get no response.

Her apology still made your throat constrict with both anger and… _sorrow._ Had she done her part, had she listened to you, had she listened to Aquilla, he would still be alive — and the General and his First Order would never have invaded Dantooine. 

_I am deeply sorry we could not reach Emissary Aquilla Syndulla in time. I am…_

You shook your head as you waited for someone to pick up the transmission. Perhaps she did not use that frequency anymore. And why would she? You never responded to her message in the first place and your husband — the sole reason why she kept in contact — was dead. General Leia Organa had no motives whatsoever to get your message.

“She won’t pick up,” you said, your voice no more than a whisper. He did not move from the threshold. Nor he shifted his stance. His bluish eyes continued to watch you with rapt attention.

The two of you were back to the house, in the kitchen. While you had your back against the sink, Hux was leaning on the threshold — D-Five had been dismissed and was currently waiting outside.   

He said nothing for a moment, which only made your heart hammer against your chest. Why was he doing this? What were his motives to contact the Resistance? He never liked them in the first place. _Kriffs_ , he never considered the possibility of joining them. That time, some weeks ago, when he questioned you on why you were not with the Resistance was a joke. He was relieved you decided to stay _neutral_ — if that was even possible — for both of you.

You hated the Resistance — hated them for not doing what they were supposed to do, for not offering help for those who helped them the most in the past —, but you knew your feelings could never compare to his.

Amirtage Hux worshipped the First Order and no matter how clear it was they had betrayed him — _for kriff’s sake they had made an attempted on his life!_ — he still held onto his old attachments; his revulsion for the Resistance being only one of them.    

Could such feeling — such religious hatred — go away with the loss of his memories?

Part of you doubted.

But another part — a hopeful, foolish even side — thought that he could change. Everyone did.     

“Leave a message.”

You almost snapped the transmission shut in the same moment. His controlled, toneless voice startled you.

Swallowing, you did as he said. 

“General Organa... I…” You wetted your lips and cleared your throat. That was difficult… more than you expected. “I… It’s (Y/N) Syndulla…” The surname brought a bitter taste to your tongue. You shifted your eyes to the General, his were a tad darker, as if he hated whenever you or someone else used that last name; as if that was unbecoming of you. “I… Reach out to me when you can. I have some… important message concerning the First Order. My contact says…”

You paused.

Breathed through your nose.

And looked at him.

He nodded.

“My contact says there’s some sort of shipment is to arrive shortly in Riosa. All sort of weapons, I believe.”

A few seconds went by in silence.

With your eyes glued to the General, you breathed through your nose and completed, “I will send you the coordinates when you reach out to me.”

In no more than two strides he was in front of you; his hands over yours, he put an end to the transmission by shutting the device.

A slow, deep sigh left you as you felt how warm his hands were. Your eyes were now focused on the floor, your brows furrowed as you considered what had just occurred. For starters, you did not believe D-Five found the comm-relay by chance, but part of you — some naïve, trusting shred — did not want to believe the General commanded him to bring the device to you at that time… However…

…however it was all so orchestrated.

He had to be looking for some excuse to contact the Resistance.

Why?

You even opened your mouth to question him, but he took the comm from your hands and placed it over the table.

“Let’s go,” he said, shifting towards you and pulling your wrist. “I promised to take you out to dinner.”

*******

You were simply flabbergasted.

When he said the two of you would ‘ _dine out’_ , he did not say where; he gave no indication whatsoever of what the place looked like. And despite the fact Dantooine had several luxury restaurants — it seemed that the poorer the planet, the more the wealthy scum wanted to show off — he took you to a charming bistro closer to the demolished Jedi Enclave.    

It was a surprise, to be sure, but a welcomed one.

You let out a relieved sigh when you noticed that instead of droids, humans were serving the tables and the clients. Across the galaxy, such tasks were left to droids — sentient beings were above such diminutive labor —, but in Dantooine, a place castigated by so many internal and external conflicts, sentient beings were left unemployed and consequently to their own fates, which usually meant starving to death. Day in day out, the hospital had to care for children in the brink of starvation.

It was good to know that at least a place — besides the hospital — were employing humans. A relieved sigh left you when you noticed that not even a single droid could be spotted at the bistro.

However, part of you felt a tad guilty. The droids at the hospital — and even D-Five — were so mindful of the patients needs — of your needs —, they sometimes made you wonder if contrary to the expectations — to the facts — they were at least a little sentient as well.

You were dragged out of your thoughts when the waiter came back with the bottle of honeyed wine and filled your glasses, before stepping away with a bow. Slowly, you brought it to your lips.

Your lids fluttered closed on their own accord. A hum of contentment formed in your throat.

It felt like centuries since you had last tasted such a sweet drink.

“You are unusually quiet,” he spoke after a while watching you attentively. He mimicked you, bringing his goblet to his lips and sipping the wine slowly.

You shifted your attention to him, looking at his bluish eyes for the first time since you left the house. There was so much you wanted to ask, so much you wanted to understand — _needed_ _to_ —, but you were at loss for words. What could you say? How could you say it without sounding accusatory?

“Thank you,” you whispered instead.

He lowered the goblet back to the table.

“That’s not what you meant.”

You furrowed your brows.

“I meant it,” you replied, biting your bottom lip with a little more force than customary. “I am thankful you brought me to this place instead of a high-end restaurant.”

He nodded, but his eyes were extremely narrowed, as if he did not believe a word you just said. As if he knew there was more you wanted to say, but did not know how.

And then, just like that, he shifted his attention to the young waiter. The boy — he was no more than in late teens; child’s labor in Dantooine was not unheard of and no matter how many laws to protect the infancy were reinforced in the Galaxy, they were all bent in that blasted planet — held a tray with two bowls containing Yeast-worm jelly. You even opened your mouth to say you had not ordered anything yet, but his hand holding your wrist across the table made you fall silent.

Before the boy could say anything — you were expecting he would reveal who ordered such an expensive dish for the both of you —, the General waved him off without even a glance.

Brows furrowed, you tried to slide free from his grasp, but he pressed his fingers tighter against your wrist. Your pulse quickened. Your heart was beating so loud now, it was all you could hear for a moment.

A gasp — that did not come from you or the General — made you look around. A few pair of eyes — which was basically the total amount of customers — focused on you. 

“You say _‘I’m unusually quieter’,”_ you started, not even trying to contain your frustration, “but you’re the one acting weird all day.”

There was not a reply from his part.

_As expected._

You sighed.

“Why did you made me contact them?”

Again, your only answer was his silence.

Not even a single expression took over his bluish eyes or his face. There was no telling if he was irritated with your sudden outburst or if he was actually expecting it. Knowing him, he probably anticipated this sort of behavior coming from you.

The waiter returned, but not the same boy of before. This time, a specimen of the Duros stopped in front of you, an empty tray in his hands and a dishcloth thrown over his left shoulder.

A gasp left you even before he could open his mouth and confirm — through his voice and heavy accent — his identity, “Trouble in paradise?”

The General even reached for his blaster, but before he could reach it, several blasters were pointed at you. All customers — and now you knew they were all from the Syndicate — and the Duros — one of Aurra Sing’s henchman, the very one who almost beat Aquilla to death once — pulled the trigger.

“Now, now, ladies and gentlemen, drop your weapons.” A firm voice echoed in the bistro. It was followed by the sound of a walking stick hitting the floor. “There’s no need for such rudeness.”

*******

There was a moment of silence. The only noticeable sound was that of Aurra Sing’s walking stick against the wooden floor, in an incessant and even annoying motion — you thought that even surpassed the noise of your heart galloping inside your chest.

All blasters seemed to have vanished in thin air, as well as the _customers._ Apart from you and the General — who had been stripped of his own blaster and a small tensor pistol — only Aurra and three of her henchmen remained in the place. The Duros who had his blaster pointed at you touched your chin, forcing you to stare at him.

Across the room, you could see the General’s nostrils flaring, even if he kept any words to himself.

“I heard you call yourself Mrs. Hux now…” he started, tightening his hold around you. His navy-blue nails biting your skin. He smiled at the discomfort in your face. “Funny how I’m always the one to beat the living shit out of the guys you choose to live with.” He lowered his face to your level, his breath against your cheeks as he spoke close to your ear, “Perhaps you should consider having me next time.”

He barely had any time to move away from you and his face was hit with a heavy load of spit. You flexed both hands, controlling your urges to slap him till you could not feel them anymore — it is, you were very aware that he would see it and intercept you before you could even try.   

Grabbing the dishcloth in his shoulders, he wiped his face clean. The other two of his companions laughed at him, and even his growl was unable to silence them. It was only when Aurra raised two of her fingers that they shut their mouths.

“A fortnight…” the General’s quiet voice was almost too loud in the quiet space. He watched the entire scene unfold before his very eyes silently. Not even once his attention was shifted to you while he spoke, “You said a fortnight.”

“Did I?” Aurra’s mocking tone made him move his jaw in barely contained rage. “I didn’t expect you to trust my words, General.”

Her teasing was only met with silence.

You stared at him with accusatory eyes. Although he said he had met with the Syndicate, he never said he had encountered Aurra Sing. He also totally forgot to mention something about a fortnight, whatever they meant by that.

She pulled a chair and sat in front of you. Mimicking her henchmen, she reached out for your chin, but you looked away. Your dismissive action caused her to breath deeply through her nose. You knew she was aching to slap you, like she did when you refused her help five years ago — when she threw at your face the arrogant little shit you were and how you would come back to her and beg for her help one of these days.

You never did.

Her green eyes were still on you when she spoke, “I may have said a fortnight, but I was dying to see Mrs. Hux…” She wetted her lips; the shadow of a smirk titled them slightly upwards, _“is that what you call yourself now?”_ Her perfect Ryl made you bit the inside of your cheeks and blink furiously. You were on the verge of tears — of anger, of shame, of regret, of self-hate. Her pronunciation was a mockery of how she was still alive while Aquilla died _for_ _her._ “I’ve missed you, darling.”

“You’re a hateful creature,” you replied in basic. You never spoke Ryl with her and you never would.

She threw her head back and laughed. You bit your bottom lip and cast a glance at the General. The intensity in his eyes made you look away at the same instant.

“It’s been five years since we’ve last seen each other,” Aurra started, snapping her fingers. It was all it took for one of her men to come back with a bottle of spice wine. She poured it in two waiting goblets and handed one to the General and the other she brought to her mouth. “In the Festival, do you remember?”

You shook your head.

You did not want to hear.

You did not want to remember.

“Of course you do,” she continued, green eyes narrowed. “It was the last time you saw Aquilla.”

There was no need to look at the General to know his impossibly blue eyes were focused on you.

“You used to love the Festival, remember?”

_There she goes._

You closed your eyes, as if that would muffle her voice, or make the sound of it less painful. A bit more bearable.

“Did she tell you why she hated the Festival, General?”

You felt your body freezing at her words.

There was only silence for a moment. _Of course there was._ He would not know what to say — for apart from the despicable Duros and Aurra Sing herself, no one in that bistro knew the story and certainly not Amirtage Hux.

You swallowed.

That was it.

Aurra Sing had orchestrated it all. Perhaps she was the one to ask for him to contact the Resistance — she too was after Luke Skywalker. Having known her your entire life, you knew how she plotted everything and played everyone around her.

She would not have survived Beckett, had she acted any differently.

In a few minutes — even less than that, it all depended on how she would bring to life her next words —, the General would know everything and all you did would be for nothing. 

You knew he should not have contacted her.

He should have stayed away from the Syndicate and those of her likings.

You cleared your throat and then bit your bottom lip forcefully. As if that would extinguish the need to cry or wipe the tears pilling up in your chin.

“They used to go to all Festiv—

“I know it,” the General interrupted her. Your eyes snapped open at his whispered tone. Aurra looked at him as well — you thought that everyone did. You could not say for sure, you could barely see him through the veil of tears in your eyes. “(Y/N) and Syndulla went to the Festival every year since they got engaged.”

Aurra looked at you and then at him, her whiteish eyebrows arched.

“In the night Aquilla died, she had to choose between you and him.”

You looked down at his words.

The lump in your throat made it impossible to keep your head straight. You could taste your tears now. The taste of salt — of your shame and your guilty — would take forever to disappear from your lips and even longer from your memory.

You have always thought of dying — and you could not think of a better moment for that to take place. Back then, it did not matter that he knew — how the _kriffs_ he found out should be in the forefront of your thoughts —, but that you were forced to relive it all over again.

As if living it once was not enough.

“Syndulla died because of (Y/N)’s inability to condemn you to your death, Aurra Sing.” He walked to you and outstretched his hand. Still unable to face him, it took you a while to place your fingers upon his. The moment he had you in his arms, he wiped your tears away. “If you orchestrated this night to know how if we have secrets between us, you’ve lost your precious time.” He used his thumb to force you to stop biting your lip.

Your heart ached at that.

It was small and sore.

You never wanted something that badly in your life as you wanted for his words to be the pure, unadulterated truth.

He brought your hand to his lips, bestowing upon your knuckles the briefest of kisses.

“We have not.”

She arched her brows.

“Ah you certainly don’t.” Her mocking tone made you swallow hard. Part of you feared she would tell the whole truth to him and another part yearned for exactly that. For the last two months you lived on edge, always afraid of the truth, always counting on him to recover his memories and figure it all himself. Her words, however, surprised you, “But you’re wrong, General.”

The two of you were already close to the door when she said it. You tightened your hold around his fingers.

“I _orchestrated_ this night to check upon some stuff: to know how deep your feelings for (Y/N)’s run and to know if she had moved on. I’ve managed to accomplish only one of these tasks.”

This time, the General was the one to squeeze your fingers.

“I know exactly what happened to the Syndulla boy.”

Your heart quickened at it.

Part of you wanted to know the truth — the only chance of closure you got in five years —; _you craved it._ Not knowing what really happened to him made your very existence a living nightmare. You even opened your mouth to say yes — you needed to say _yes_ — but you shook your head. You squeezed the General’s fingers, your eyes on his as you replied, “It’s time I move on.”

She arched her brows, as if she did not believe a word you just said.

“You may regret it in the future.”

“Perhaps.” You cast a last glance at her and then looked back at the General. “Take me home, please.”

*******

The journey back home was silent. And even if the velocity in which he conducted the speeder bike was still more than you were used to, this time you did not hold onto him for dear life.

You spent the whole way back thinking about his words.

It was not needed to be a genius to know he was playing with your psychological. The General may not have a clue on the reasons for your lies — or even that you were lying — but he knew you lied. And it was not the first time he gave you the opportunity to tell the truth.

The General was a ruthless man and the fact that he offered any chance for you to justify yourself spoke volumes about how high he regarded you. And yet you could not bring yourself to say it.

_I lied._

Two words.

It was very simple.

It should be.

However, all you could come up with was more and more made up stories. Instead of taking that burden off of your shoulders, you kept only adding to it — and to your life sentence. You wondered if he would grant you a quick or slow death after he knew the truth.

As soon as he brought the speeder bike to a stop, you removed your helmet and handed it to him. You dismounted the vehicle and walked to the same place you found him earlier — where you shared those kisses and D-Five showed up with your comm-relay. The bottle of _Tihaar_ along with his electronic cigarette were still there.

You brought the distillate drink to your mouth and gave one big gulp. Your throat burned, your entire face contorted into a grimace. You cast a glance at him, only to find him still sitting at the _speeder bike._ He had removed his helmet and was currently adjusting a few strands of his ginger hair back in place.

“Why did you make me contact the Resistance if you’re working with the Syndicate?”

Instead of giving you an answer, he placed his helmet next to yours and outstretched his long legs. Between his fingers, he lit a cigarette he took from his coat and brought it to his lips.

You scrunched your nose, but no words left you. Not that he would have minded you. He seemed so keen on smoking he would have ignored you even if you had begged otherwise.

He exhaled the smoke and fixed his intense blue eyes on you.  

“I am working with no one.”

_What?_

That made absolutely no sense.

You blinked twice. As he brought the cigarette back to his lips, inhaling the smoke, you took another sip of the _Tihaar._ You pressed your lids together and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

_Blast!_

That was simply too _kriffing_ bitter! And strong.

You felt dizzy already.

“You should stop drinking,” he said, shutting off the electronic cigarette. He exhaled the smoke one more time and pocketed his hands. You narrowed your eyes at him and brought the bottle to your lips. His eyebrows arched a little at your defiant gesture. “And you should stop feeling guilty for something that isn’t your fault to begin with.”

“Excuse me?”

That was probably the longest sentence he had spoke to you in the last few days. Or ever. You did not know. All you knew was that you were feeling as if you had drunk too much already and that you should have stopped drinking long before he told you to. You coughed and closed your eyes; your vision too blurry after the coughing fit.

He walked to you, taking the _Tihaar_ from your hands. Different from you, he did not grimace when he drank it. You bet that he could even drink _Port in a Storm **—**_ and no one, _absolutely no one_ , could drink that, unless they were from Pamarthen — as easily as he ordered you around.

“Aurra Sing is a clever woman,” he started, placing the bottle on the ground, close to his feet and then entwined both hands behind his back. He was in full General mood, analyzing the situation. You tore your eyes off him and looked up, losing yourself on the gigantic moon above your heads. “But not as much as she believes. She’s a woman of action.”

You tried to get the bottle, but his hand quickly shot to your wrist, tightened his hold around you and pulled you towards him. A gasp left you at his action. This time you managed to break free from his grasp — or he allowed you to. At this point, you were not so sure anymore.

“She has always been more brawns than brains.”

He looked at you for a moment, as if deciding he agreed with your words or not. His hands were entwined on his back again, assuming the same rigid posture of before.

“Yes…” he conceded after a moment. “You could say that.”

There was a moment of silence between you.

“How did you know about the Festival?”

He retrieved the bottle and brought it back to his lips, as if considering his next words very carefully, “How long have you known each other?” he asked instead.

You felt your brows rising in your face. Your shoulders immediately squared. That was absolutely off topic for you. More than the Festival, but you thought that perhaps, you could be honest with him.

_Kriffs._

His words would haunt you forever now.

The General was far ruthless than everyone gave him credit for. He knew his enemies’ weaknesses and exploited it to the fullest. He knew yours — how guilty you would feel after his open declaration of trust, real or not — and he was not afraid of playing you to his hearts content.

“She was not a ruler here when my parents needed money. They asked for the wrong person and…”

There was a moment of silence. You drew in a sharp breath, not knowing how to continue. That was a fragment of your past that you felt no joy in recalling — a tainted, shameful part of your life you wanted to forget.  

“You worked for her,” he finished for you.

You nodded.   

“She saw potential in me.” You laughed nervously — at least you tried to, the sound came out a bit struggled. “Can you believe that?”

He walked to you, hands still on his back, invading your personal space. His boots almost touched your own shoes. You knew what he wanted, but you were almost on the verge of begging him to let it go.

Judging by his posture, you knew you did not stand a chance.

_Kriffs._

“I was barely thirteen when she put a blaster in my hand and forced me to kill another girl, my age, I think.” You breathed through your nose and shifted your attention to the ground, to his shiny black boots. Looking at his very intense eyes would simply not do. “I couldn’t do it. She killed one of Aurra’s instead.” You bit your bottom lip. “I promised that when the time came I would never waver again. I did. And it cost Aquilla’s life.”

He did not say anything, waiting for you to continue. You did not.

“I couldn’t bring myself to kill anyone, so I became a healer.” You finally looked up, looked at him. He was so close you could feel his breath against your face. “I saved all her henchmen, I saved her life, allowing them to continue with their rule of endless tyranny of them. Then I met Aquilla…”

You tried to look down, but he held your chin, forcing you to stare at him square in the eye.

“She wanted me to kill him,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “He was an Emissary from the Senate, investigating a few suspicious transactions here in Dantooine. I couldn’t. I couldn’t kill him.”

The irony of the situation was not lost on you.

You reached for his face, brushing your fingers against his sharp cheekbones. He leaned almost imperceptibly in your touch.

Twice you had the fate of two men in your hands and twice you decided to let them live. And while Aquilla was not a bad man — he fought for what was right in this Galaxy, you could not say the same about the General.      

“In exchange for my freedom, he would stop investigating her. It is, as long as she did what was right. And as much as Aurra hated it, I don’t think she wanted the Galactic Senate breathing on her neck…”

You even tried to remove your hand from his face, but he held you in place. His own hands moved to your waist, bringing you close.

“She let you go.”

You shrugged.

“She always thought I was a useless girl.”

There was silence for another long moment. You reveled in the fact that telling him at least this piece of your life made you feel slightly better. As if some of the guilty for keeping so much from him was lifted off your shoulders.

He ran his fingers upon your nude arms, arousing goosebumps on your skin. You blinked twice, trying to remember what you were talking about before he interrupted you — practically demanding some explanation.

You did your part.

It was time he did his.   

You stepped from his hold, putting a few inches of distance between you. “You have not answered my question.”

It took him a while to come up with a reply.

“Are you working with the Syndicate?” you asked one more time, hugging both arms around you frame. From cold or fear of what his answer you did not know.

“Tonight was a farce,” he replied quietly. It took you a moment to understand what he meant. “Aurra Sing wanted to know my weakness, so I gave her that.”

“I don’t understand.” You whispered, your brows furrowed. “What about never letting your enemy know your weakness?”

His words of reprehension echoed in your mind. In more than one occasion he chided you. In more than one occasion he made you feel useless because you could not be as detached as he himself.  

He snorted.

You hugged yourself tighter. Only now you noticed how cold you were feeling. He lost no time to remove his coat and place it over your shoulders. You half expected him to move away, assuming that _General_ _posture_ of his, but he stood closer, caressing your face and your bottom lip.

“It was a ploy,” he replied nonchalantly. “She has been curious about the nature of our relationship, so I gave her what she wanted.”

Even after his explanation, it still made no sense to you.

“And why would you do that?”

His eyes were trained on your lips, in an intense stare. You shivered, but not out of cold this time. 

“All my life people thought that I was a useless, weak boy,” he said instead. You placed your hand over the one that was handing on his side, squeezing it lightly. He opened his palm and you entwined your fingers together. “Aurra Sing knows that. So I merely let her think she orchestrated this whole night.”

You furrowed your brows.

“You stroked her ego.”

He nodded.

“She believes she can manipulate you using me…” You bit your bottom lip. “And that she held greater importance in my life than Aquilla did. She thinks…” You gulped, the very thought setting your heart into endless anguish. “That when the time comes, I’ll choose her over you.”

“She doesn’t know you.” He removed your hair from your face, smoothening the strands between his face. He leaned closer, his warm breath against your own lips. You could faintly smell the alcohol. “You didn’t choose between her and Aquilla as she firmly believes. You chose not to kill anyone. That’s different.”

“That makes me weak,” you whispered.

“No,” the General said in resolution; his lips moved from yours and skimmed your temples lightly. “That makes you… _uniquely you.”_

Your eyes widened at his words.

Part of you expected him to agree with her, expected him to say that was something you would have to work on, because that was a weakness. Instead, his words surprised you more than you thought possible at first.

Another part recalled Aurra’s words. They echoed in the back of your mind.

_…To know if she had moved on…_

Your heart hammered in your chest.

Your blood pumped faster in your veins.

You drew in a sharp breath.

In five years you never considered the possibility of moving on. You merely survived, going on your daily chores day after day, waiting for the moment it would all come to an end. But now…

…Now…

Her words made you see everything under a different light.

If you never cared about whether you lived or died before, now you wanted to live… _Desperately._ You wanted to finally move on.

With this man.

With Armitage Hux.

High in your own finding, you leaned to kiss him, but he moved slightly away before you could reach his lips. He placed a strand of hair behind your ear and broke apart. You shivered when his fingers brushed against your neck.

“We should go back inside, you’re getting cold.”

He walked ahead; his back to you. His hands were back to his pockets. It took you a while to find your voice. You were not sure you should ask that, but you knew that you could not go bed with that nagging doubt in your mind.

Aurra also said she wanted to know about his feelings…

…for you.

You had to know.

“So everything about tonight was a lie.” Your words were no more than a small whisper. You were not even sure he heard you. “Some game you played.”

It took him a while to reply. The mere indication he had somewhat heard you —your voice, even if he could not discern what you said — was the fact he stopped in his tracks. His back straightened.

The General looked at you over his shoulders.

“No.”

He walked back to you, invading your personal space. He lifted your chin, forcing you to stare at him. His blue eyes were very intense. And unreadable as ever.

“Not everything.” Your breaths were mixed, his mouth was almost on yours. You wetted your lower lip and subconsciously ended up running your tongue over his too. He shuddered. “She was right about one thing.”

 _What?_ you felt like asking, but gave up. His hands were on your waist, pulling you closer till there was no space between your bodies. You entwined your finger in his smooth, ginger hair. He captured your lips into a very light, very chaste kiss. Your heart stopped for a moment…

…then it all sped up at his words.

“My feelings for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for today, kids xD  
> Well, this chapter came out longer than the rest of them. But as I said, they tend to get all to this length from now on. Sorry!
> 
> For those who're wondering why Hux decided to contact the Resistance and give them info on the FO, don't worry. It'll be explained next chapter. I only have one question for you all: does Hux really like Reader, have feelings for her as he said, or is he just playing her??? You tell me!
> 
> Like I said, next chapter we'll have the long waited smut, I hope you like it. It won't be that graphic, but it's needed for the plot. Reader decided to move on and I think it's time to make things a bit more complicated (sex always do complicate things in romantic stories after all xD) So stay tuned. I think I'll be able to update this Friday, Saturday at most and then I'll have to take a break. I said in ITGB's notes that I NEED to concentrate on my masters, but I promise, I'll try to update at least twice a week. This story is way easier to write than ITGB, so I don't think you'll stay a month or more without hearing for me, but follow me on my tumblr nymphl and you'll know about updates! 
> 
> I think that's all. Any words are welcomed. Here or on tumblr, you decide!
> 
> Take care and I (hope) see you on Friday with chapter 12 - Heaven & Hell. 
> 
> PS: I'm such a nice person, right? Two updates in a week! xD


	12. Heaven & Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, lovelies! xD
> 
> First of all, I apologize for my lateness. I am so sorry! But this couldn't be helped. Although I did have part of this chapter written, I'm a bit rusty when it comes to write a full lemon scene, so... btw I spent the weekend just lazying around, watching the third and last season (such a pity) of Versailles. I only finished this chapter yesterday and today I came back to reread it and add/remove some lines here and there. 
> 
> I can't thank you enough for your kind words, your support and everything you've given me so far. You guys are amazing! My biggest thanks to all those of you who took your time to review last chapter (Liz, spaceginger, cherryart, BellaRen, Cata_Lina, Spacearistocrats, isthisonetakenyet, Yuukinna, Millicent, bitch_hips and anonymous) and for those who have left me encouraging words in tumblr as well (SASSMASTERJEDI, ANOLYMPIANHERO, TRELANEY and 0MIDNIGHTHEART). You guys rock! I'll reply your reviews as soon as possible! xD
> 
> thephelpstwins, if you read this know that I love you too. I just didn't have time to reply your ask yet. But I will. Soon. To any other reader who sent me anonymous ask in tumblr, know that I have read it and that I cherish your words, but like I said, I did not have any time to come up with replies. I am sorry! 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to all of you old and new readers. Happy reading! xD 
> 
> PS: Apart from the first two scenes, the whole chapter is pure smut. 4k of it! Enjoy!

YOUR EYES SNAPPED OPEN IN THE DARKENED ROOM.

With a yawn, you sat on the mattress and looked at your side. The General was sleeping soundly; one of his hands over his scarred chest.

You took a deep intake of breath and climbed out of the bed carefully. _Silently._ He barely got any sleep; you did not want to wake him just because you were thirsty.

Covering his nude form with the blanket, you grabbed his discarded black shirt — the first clothing item you saw the darkened bedroom —, grimacing as a bit of muscular pain shot through your body. It was not that unbearable, but it made you wonder if you should take any painkiller before he noticed your legs ached. Surely a few — just a few, if he believed you were at it regularly before the attempt on his life, it is… — months without sex would not leave you all sore.

_For the maker!_

If he had not caught you on your lies before, he surely would catch you now.

Better not to remember how you touched him, all unsure. _Testy_. Anyone who knew their lover well — and you assured him you knew him — would have behaved more assuredly than you did.

Well, maybe you were overthinking it. He did seem to enjoy your touches and the act to its fullest. And judging by how soundly he slept in your small bed, you could say you were not the only one to abstain from the whole thing.

A sigh left you as you headed towards the kitchen.

After drinking your water, you set on making some _vincha_ tea for you — and he better not dream you used to drink it after your training sessions with him, otherwise you did not think you would be able to stand on your wobbling legs next time. Three hundred push=ups felt like child’s games now. You were so concentrated on your task, when you saw the otherwise motionless form of D-Five moving his head towards you, you almost spilled hot tea in your hand, but he placed his own mechanic arm in front of your skin, taking the hot liquid in his circuits.

“For the maker, D-Five!”

“Oh my!” he exclaimed at the mess the two of you left on the floor, the sink and his own arm. “I apologize for startling you, Mrs. Hux.”

 _You scared me!_ You could have said. Instead, you took a sharp intake of breath to calm your racing heart and shook your head. A small smile tilted the corner of your mouth, “it’s nothing, D-Five.”

_But I almost spilled hot tea in your skin, Mrs. Hux! How can you simply forgive me?_

_I apologize for almost ruining your skin._

_I apologize for being such a useless droid._

_I apologize…_

_I am so useless!_

_I apologize…_

_I am doomed in my uselessness!_

_I apologize…_

 “Silence, D-Five!” you managed to cut him off. You would have rolled your eyes if it would not make the droid feel worse. “The General is sleeping.”

“Ah! Oh! I understand Mrs. Hux. I am—”

You raised your hand, silencing him for good. You were not sure you could take him saying how useless he was any longer. Bringing the tea to your lips, you savored the quietude in the kitchen. It is, till the buzz of your comm-relay made you freeze in place.

He looked at you, head tilted to the side slightly, as if questioning whether you would answer it or not.

You swallowed.

It was now or never.

*******

General Organa had… _aged_.

It was the first thing you noticed as soon your hands, along with your coom-relay, stopped trembling and her hologram fixed in front of your very eyes.

Yet, she had the same proud posture of before. The same surety in her voice as she spoke. At first apologizing for the late hour — your yawn or your clothing denounced you; you were not sure — and then saying it had been a while since you last spoke.

“It has…” you replied silently.

You were uncomfortable talking to her, but what seemed to bother you the most was the fact she did not seem to regret her past actions — or lack thereof. You knew the General to be a straight-to-the-point and logical woman — what difference would it make to apologize for something she could not change? Different from you, she hardly had any time to lose with emotions — past or present. Life made sure to harden her to its fullest. Still, you felt slightly upset that she did not seem regretful for ruining your life.

You shook your head.

There was no time for it.

You decided to move on.

And the reason why was sleeping in the next room.

“I received your message just a few minutes ago,” she started. “The Resistanc—

_Right._

“I’m sending you the Coordinates,” you said, snapping out of your haze and cutting her in the middle of her words. “My contact says the shipment will arrive in two days in Rioza.”

“Rioza…” she trailed off. “Of course, it makes sense.” Then her brownish eyes set on you, as if accessing you to consider your words and the truth in them. “And how do you trust this contact of yours?”

You took a moment to consider what she just said. At first, you felt highly offended she did not trust you — it was you after all and as much as you detested her past actions you would never put the life of so many in danger. Jeopardizing a whole operation based on hurt feelings? It was beneath you and you expected Senator Organa knew that as well. And honestly, you would never have contacted them if you believed — truly believed — the General would.

His reasons were not clear as of yet, but he you were sure he did not mean to exterminate the Resistance with such information.

You bit your bottom lip…

…and thought a bit more of the situation. In the end she was right not to believe you. In her place you would not trust her that easily. She probably thought you would seek revenge on her for not doing anything before.

“With my life,” you replied, for the first time actually believing it. You wetted your lips and took a seat at the table. D-Five filled your mug with more _vincha_ tea and took his seat in front of you when you gestured towards the empty chair. “He said you would not believe him, so he said to show you this…” You lifted a small necklace. Or what seemed to be a small necklace. It was in fact a small recorder device. “It contains a camera directly linked to the private chambers of Ben Solo.”

General Organa’s form seemed to still a bit, but with the wavering _holo_ you could not say for sure. Perhaps it was just the bad connection and you were seeing things.

“Kylo Ren,” she spoke. It sounded like she was correcting you, but you did not know for sure. The General told you right before you fell asleep in his arms that Kylo Ren was General Organa’s son, in the past called Ben Solo. It seemed to have an impact on her. And you wondered if Armitage had not gone too far provoking a mother like that. In her place, you would be furious to be played in such way. “It must be old footage.”

There was silence for a moment.

Her wavering form in the _holo_ did not make you feel confident about this strategy of the General, so you wetted your lips and cleared your throat.

“I am sorry, Senator Organa…” you started, addressing her by her old title. “I know you must not want any old image. If you… If you want to talk to Ben—” you stopped yourself before you could finish your sentence. “Kylo Ren, I can give you the coordinates to his rooms.”

She arched her brows. And probably narrowed her eyes as well. Honestly, you could not know for sure.

“He must be someone from high up in the First Order.”

You felt your spine freezing…

…and recalled what the General said how to address the matter, should it ever raise. 

“He was a lowly officer in training.” You brought your tea to your lips to calm yourself. You could only hope Senator Organa did not notice how nervous you were. “Not even fit to be a regular stormtrooper.”

There was moment of silence.

“I will give you his name when the time is due.”

She nodded.

“Perhaps he is an old acquaintance of Finn.”

It was your time to nod, even if you had no idea who that Finn was. The General never spoke of him. Perhaps you should ask? There was another moment of silence in which you busied yourself with your tea. It tasted so good you did not want it to end.

“Send me the Coordinates to Rioza.”

A sigh of relief left you.

It meant that she decided to trust you. And even though it should not mean that much, it did.

“We’ll talk later.”

You nodded, about to end the transmission when her voice sounded loud and clear in your ears.

“About Aquilla…”

You froze.

“I’ve moved on,” you said. Your voice firmer and surer than you had expected at first. In the past, any mention to his name would have you trembling and sweating.  

She seemed surprised at your words, but did not comment on that. The sound of footsteps made the two of you to stop talking. You cast a glance upwards and saw the General leaning against the threshold. He only wore light trousers; his arms were folded at his nude chest. The air seemed to leave your lungs as his intense eyes set on you, watching you closely.  

“Well, if you ever want to know…”

Before you ended the transmission, you looked at the General’s bluish eyes as you spoke, “I won’t.”

*******

Your legs felt like jelly as you approached him. Your heart was hammering in your chest. He even moved from his leaning position, but he did not let his arms fall to his side as you invaded his personal space. It only made him stand taller than before.

You swallowed.

Not sure of what to say or how to start a conversation, you lifted your finger to trace the scar in his chest. His shiver was not missed by neither of you. Perhaps you should start by wishing him _good morning?_ His furrowed eyebrows seemed to mock you for your word choice, but he did not say anything else. When you were about to bite your bottom lip, he brushed his thumb over it.

“Shut down for the night, D-Five.”

You almost choked. You had completely forgotten about the protocol droid. It was a blessing that the General always seemed to have everything under strict control.

“Of course, General Hux and Mrs. Hux. I apologize for any inconveniences.”

His voice was distant as his footsteps carried him to the balcony outside. Part of you worried about leaving him in the elements, but any thought was cut short when the General closed his hand around your throat, caressing your windpipe slowly. Your lids fell closed on their own accord, as you savored his innocent touch. He let go of that instance of his; his free hand finding its way to your waist and pulling you closer. Before you could even register what happened, he had you against the wall; his body pressing into yours.

It took him less than a second to place a strand of your hair behind your ear and lift your chin. His lips fell over yours shortly after in a brief, sweet and _oh-so-heavenly_ kiss. He did not let you deepen it, forcing your tongue into submission, keeping it inside your mouth.

His hands left your waist and moved to the hem of his shirt, lifting it slightly and brushing his fingertips over your thighs. You pressed your lids forcefully and bit your bottom lip. His were now against your clavicle, lavishing it with kisses and small bites.

Subconsciously, you arched your back, offering yourself to him. He seemed to enjoy it, for a low sound formed in the back of his throat and his hands moved to the buttons of your — _his_ — black shirt. You even tried to bite back a moan when he grazed his fingers slowly — one would say even purposelessly — against your breasts, to no avail.

“You look ravishing in my clothes, Mrs. Hux,” he whispered against your ear, before trapping your earlobe between his teeth. His thigh eased between your legs, moving it slowly against your core.

Overstimulated — and he had barely begun —, you gasped when he ran his hand over your left breast, still covered — even if barely — by the fabric of his black shirt and scratched your nipple. Entwining your fingers between his ginger tresses, you directed his head from your neck to your neglected breast.

Not a man who needed to be told twice, the General’s breath teased your nipple. It was utter heaven when his tongue stroked it a few times. You did not know which article of clothing was wetter now, if his shirt or his trousers. Your hips jerked against his thigh when he pulled his shirt a little aside to grant his mouth full access to your skin. And just as he did to your clavicle, he lavished it with kisses and small bites that had you sighing and moaning and writhing against both his body and the wall.

With both his mouth and his fingers, he worshipped your pearls slowly, lightly, waking up your body to the pleasures to come — and you could only imagine what they would be this time.

An unscrupulous, wicked man, the General removed his black shirt completely — and very, very unhurriedly, as if he had all the time in the world —, leaving you bare to his appreciation. He did not seem to have noticed before you were not wearing any underwear, but he seemed very pleased. It is if the way his bluish eyes darkened a bit and he wetted his lips were of any indication... His fingers ghosted over your skin, going southwards and causing a shiver to run down your spine. He lowered his head back to your left nipple, blowing warm air on it, before enclosing his mouth deliberately… and taking a tentative lick…

…at the same time his fingers reached your clit and…

…you could almost feel it reaching you, gripping you and shaking you to the next century. You were so oversensitive, you knew it would only take a few of his magical — _and oh-so-glorious_ — touches for him to have you climaxing again.  

“What did General Organa say?”

Your eyes snapped open at his question. Your vision was a bit blurry, and your mind was hazy.

_What?_

You could barely believe that out of all times, he had chosen that to start a conversation. The last in your mind now were words and any civil discussion.  

“What did the General say?”

He pressed a small kiss over your heart, close but quite not touching you the way you were hungry for. The same could be said about his fingers; they were now creeping over your thighs. So very… so _kriffing_ close. His own thigh was still between yours and as you tried to bounce against it, creating some friction, he grabbed your ass, keeping you in place.

“You’re not serious, are you?” You wanted to look angry, but all you managed was to sound desperate.

You almost expected him to flash a victorious smirk at you — the very same one he did use to have plastered upon his lips whenever you trained, and you begged for his mercy —, but this time he merely flicked your nipple… and then switched to the other, paying the same attention equally. You threw your head back and mewled.

“What did General Organa say, (Y/N)?”

Your eyes snapped open and you shifted your attention to him. You could almost see the smirk there, outlining his full lips. You entwined your fingers in his locks and tried to get him closer to your breasts once again, but it only made him break apart from you.

That was it.

He would not give you what you craved — and he knew how much you wanted it and how you wanted it — unless you talked.

Begrudgingly — you could barely believe he would rather talk about General Organa than having you cumming around his fingers, _in_ _his mouth,_ for the maker! You would die to have his mouth on you —, you started, your voice hiding nothing of your thirst, “I thought you heard it. I was sure you were there for long than I—

Your head fell backwards and your mouth opened in the perfect shape of an O. Instead of brushing his thumb against your clit as you so expected, he entered you smoothly with his fingers.    

Two of them at once.

He gave you no time to adjust to the abrupt invasion and started scissoring you. He licked your breasts one more time and moved his mouth back to yours. The General kissed you in the same manner in which his fingers took you. At first slowly, drawing the pleasure out of you, but as you managed to get a hold of him — there was no saying who moaned louder — and started working his cock through his trousers, he moved faster and faster and faster…

…till he stopped completely.

“Is she going to Rioza?”

_Kriffs!_

You could not believe he stopped for that!

Before you could come up with a reply, he was back to scissoring you. His thumb was over your clit, applying such a sweet pressure over it you could not help but sigh. His mouth was now trailing down your neck, your breasts — and this time he did not stop to worship them as you wished he would —, your belly and then your navel.

You blinked twice and looked at his bluish eyes as he placed a small kiss to your hip. And then your thigh… You shuddered. You definitely liked where he was headed to. The sight of the General kneeling in front of you, _for you,_ would be forever carved in your mind. He was about to kiss the inner part of it when he suddenly stopped — the movement of his fingers coming to a halt inside of you as well…  

“Answer me.”

You knew he would stop — for good this time — if you did not, so you wetted your lips and breathed out, “Yes.”

It was all it took for him to enclose his lips against your swollen clit and for his fingers to go back to that maddening pace of them. You threw your head back and closed your eyes as he lifted your leg and placed it over his shoulder.

“Heavens, yes!”

Your hands fell to his head — in order to direct him, or to stop him or to keep yourself straight; at this point you had no idea — your nails finding their way to his ginger locks.

_Hmmmmmmm_

The General coordinated your pleasure, drawing out of you sounds, _mewls_ you barely recognized as being yours. Your face was hot — if from desire or shame you did not know — and your breath came out in short gasps.

You looked at him — at his impossibly blue eyes — as your orgasm drew nearer. The sight of him eating you out while staring at you made you even slicker for him. You bit your bottom lip, trying to contain your moans as his free hand caressed your thigh slowly, running back and forth over your overstimulated skin before gripping your ass forcefully and moving your hips against his face slowly at first and then, after the strokes of his skilled tongue grew slower, he moved you faster, to the point you were fucking his face shamelessly.

To complete the feast to eyes, all you needed was to watch him touching himself, bringing him to an earthshattering orgasm at the same time he brought you.

The image in the back of your eyes were enough to make your mouth open and a silent scream leave you. You were so lost in the pleasure of his tongue and his fingers curling inside of you, you sobbed.

It was… _blissful._

He lapped at you, his tongue never coming to a stop — thankfully, you were not sure you could forgive ever him if he stopped right now —, as you rode your orgasm fully. You were so hypersensitive, it took him just a few more strokes and the right movement of his skilled fingers — inside your pussy and teasing your nipples — for you to cum again.

This time, it was very brief and your legs gave in shortly after. A small gasp — of discomfort or satisfaction, you were not sure anymore — left you. He was quick to catch you, placing one arm behind your knees and the other around your back as he lifted you, bridal style. You leaned your head against his shoulders; your eyes closing out of their own volition.

The General carried you to your bedroom, placing you over the bed and covering you with the blankets. He climbed right after you, bringing you to his arms as he bestowed your temples the sweetest of the kisses.   

“Sleep tight, my Empress.”

*******

It was already morning when you woke up this time. The sunlight lit the bedroom and the birds sang outside. It was a very lovely morning, actually. However, the General was nowhere to be seen.

You even thought about going after him — he was either in the kitchen or outside —, but gave up as soon as you placed your feet on the floor and your legs almost gave up. You were too weak — and _mothers of moons_ , he knew how to leave you thoroughly spent — to walk right now. Perhaps, if you took a few deep breaths and tried again…

It was not needed, however, for he entered the room shortly after, carrying a tray with breakfast. From your spot on the bed, you could see that he was back to his impeccable self: clothes flawlessly aligned, ginger hair slicked back to perfection; he even had shaved. You arched your brows at him, pulling the blankets to cover your modesty.

“You showered.”

As usual, he did not give you an answer — part of you even thought about doing what he did to you later. Teasing him in exchange for his answers. You wondered if he would be able to keep a straight face while you wrapped your lips around his shaft or if he would lose his composure.

Your face warmed at the — _indecorous_ — idea. You cleared your throat and brought the _vincha_ tea to your lips. You could have asked what was that for, but you knew it was useless denying you were sore when he knew it firsthand.

“I assume I am dismissed of our training today?” you tried, a contented sigh left you as you drank a bit more of the tea. Apart from the fact you loved _vincha_ tea, you hoped you could hide your smile.

It was indeed a great morning!

His eyes seemed to spark at your attempt. The corner of his lips lifted slightly in the briefest of smirks, “Not a chance, Mrs. Hux.”

_Kriffs!_

You even thought about saying you were sore, but that was exactly the point of the _vincha_ tea and besides you did not want to give him any more reasons to get suspicious. So you tried instead, “But you already showered.”

He arched his brow.

That was surely a stupid statement.

“Who is Finn?” you asked instead. All you wanted was to buy yourself a few more minutes, so the time would run out and you would have to go to the Hospital without training with him. 

_Sounded like a plan._

His eyes darkened at your question. His instance became a bit rigid. He did not take that long to give you an answer, however. He watched as you brought tiny bits of garfish to your mouth and then drank the sphere-fruit juice. He placed both hands on his back, assuming that General posture of his.

 _For the maker!_ That was _definitely_ not ending up like earlier.

“FN-2187 was a promising stormtrooper in the First Order.”

You bit your bottom lip.

“He deserted…” you completed for him. “General Organa said my contact was just like this Finn.”

He narrowed his eyes at you.

“We are nothing alike.” You swallowed at the coldness in his tone. “FN-2187 and I are from completely different breeds.” His lips lifted in a snarl as he approached the bed. “He betrayed the First Order and everything it stood for.”

_Okay._

That was definitely not the same mood of before.

You bit your bottom lip. It was time to some hard questions — you could only hope he would answer them truthfully.

Part of you started regretting your words to General Organa.

_I trust him with my life._

Did you?

Could you?

Another part knew you could trust him. You had to. Otherwise, what was the point of all this? _Th e point of moving on! _How could you move on if not with a person you could entrust your very life to?

“Are you still loyal to them?” You took a sharp intake of breath. “To the First Order?”

He took a few seconds to reply — which set your heart into a frenzy beat. It was almost smashing against your ribcages. Your mouth grew dry — even if you had just sipped your juice. You held your breath, waiting for his answer — it had the power to either raise you to the skies or take you to the darkest depths of the underworld.

“I am loyal only to myself…”

He had not only approached the bed, but he had sat on it. He grabbed your chin firmly — but not unkindly — and forced you to stare at him as he replied, “And you.”

_What?_

Before this word could come to life in your mouth, he took your lips into an overpowering kiss, silencing you for good.  

*******

You had no idea how it all began, but in one moment you were questioning him — your heart on the verge of escaping you — and the next he was sitting behind you, running his fingers over your nude arms.

He started feeding you with berries and grapes between slow and passionate kisses. At first, you thought he was distracting you, preventing you from questioning him further. Then you were sure of it as he started kissing your shoulders and neck in a tantalizing fashion.

Nevertheless, you did not have it in you to stop him now when he was so good at provoking you and readying your body to him. You tilted your head aside, giving him more room to lavish your skin however he saw fit. Your fingers intertwined with his as you brought his right hand to your core. You held yourself open for him to slide his fingers inside of you and caress you just the way you longed for.  

_Hmmmmm_

He bit your ear, breathing hard against it. He moved his lips against your jaw and then skimmed them over yours. He did not kiss you, though. You opened your eyes as he stopped scissoring you.   

“Amirtage!” you breathed out, looking at him. As if begging, as if admonishing him for stopping, as if… Your thoughts were cut short when he kissed you fervently. His mouth thoroughly dominating yours.

You held him by his hair — and now their pristine condition was no longer a rule — and deepened the kiss for just a moment. In the next, he broke apart, turning you to face him. He gave you no time to say anything before his lips surrounded your nipple.

“Touch yourself,” he whispered against your skin, nuzzling the valley between your breasts. Your hold tightened around his hair. He gasped in pain, but his eyes darkened at the action. “I want to watch you pleasuring yourself.”

His husky voice — his commanding tone — was sufficient to leave you drenched for him. You bit your bottom lip ready to ask him to do the same to himself, only to find his right hand already around his shaft as he pumped himself slowly. _Lazily_.

You moaned.

_“Kriffs!”_

Instead of doing what he said — what he wanted — you lost yourself watching him pleasuring himself. His strokes were brief, almost too calculated as he showered your breasts with his enticing little kisses.

You placed your hand over his, working his cock firmly and quicker, building up the tension. He threw his head back against the headboard as you took control of him — of his body, of his pleasure. Your lips fell over his in a slow kiss. Unlike him, you kissed him differently than how you masturbated him.

Then, you pecked his throat, biting into his Adam’s apple carefully, yanking a gasp from him. Your lips descended upon his pale skin, your tongue slithering over his erected nipples. A sucker for control, he grabbed your hips, trying to shift your positions, so you would be under him. _At his mercy._ But you used your right hand to stop him, placing your fingers over his scar and pressing it resolutely. Your fingers tightened their hold around his cock.

He gasped in pain.

If he tried to move again, gasping would be the last of his reactions.

The hard line of his lips indicated he was not even close to be pleased with you trying to dominate him. You merely shrugged. If you had your way with him, he would not leave that bed anytime soon… not until he was thoroughly satisfied. After all, if he were used to dominate in bed, so were you.

You took his lips again and this time he seemed far more compliant. His hips started moving against your hand as he sought his sweet release. In an action that had you moaning, he held you by your ass and brought you against him, rubbing your swollen clit against his aching shaft.

“Make love to me,” you whispered against his lips, your arms now around his neck. “Make me yours.”

He did not nod, he did not give you an answer. Not the one you were expecting at least. He merely lowered you onto him.

You both gasped at the sensation. He stretched you deliciously — _gloriously_ — and there was nothing else in this world that you wanted — _hungered, craved_ — more now.

He twitched inside you.

You wanted to go faster, even tried to, but he would not allow you. With his hand enclosed around your throat, cutting your breath short, he forced you into submission. His left hand moved to your hips, showing the rhythm he wanted you to follow. The pace was slow, very thought-out, just like a timed dance. As if he wanted to delay your pleasure — _his too._

His bluish eyes were thoroughly focused on yours. A gasp left you at their intensity. You caressed his face, your thumb easing his bottom lip. He moved your hand away and kissed you briefly and then he was back to worshipping your breasts, but that too was brief.

He stroked your face, your lips… _Your throat…_ as if you were to become dust in his fingers. As if you were the most precious thing in the galaxy. _His most prized gem._  

If you had any doubt concerning his loyalty before, it was all gone now.

The General was not a man of many words, but his intense, impossibly blue eyes could convey the depths of his soul. And to many of his enemies — but not to you —, it would be a surprise to find out he indeed had one.

You brushed your nose against his and leaned your forehead was over his.

It did not matter he was once loyal to the First Order. It did not matter he had deep feelings concerning them; he was not a shallow man. And you were sure whatever he felt for you was, too, deep. The General was _definitely not_ a man who did anything in half. 

_I think I love you…_

You moved over him, a bit slower than before. You found his hand and enlaced your fingers together. He brought your it to his mouth, bestowing upon your palm and your wrist the sweetest of kisses.

“I-I…”

He took your lips gently.

“I know.”

As you closed your eyes in utter relief, he used the opportunity to shift your positions, with him atop of you now. Both of his hands pressed yours to the mattress, keeping you at his mercy as he slipped inside of you once more. One of your legs moved to his waist, allowing him to go deeper inside of you, hitting a spot that had you arching your back… _for him._

You broke free from his grasp, your hands moved to his back, holding him close.

It would be total hell if it was any different. If he did not feel anything for you. If he was merely using you for whatever foul means of his… What you felt for this man… It was just so intense, the thought of…

…His movements grew deeper, even if slower. He removed your hand from his back and trapped it over your head, your fingers sliding together as you met him in every thrust, _in every…_     

He did not take long in that position either. He kneeled on the bed, his cock standing proud, shiny with your juices mixed together. Precum oozed of his glorious, beautiful shaft; it commanded your every attention.

You licked your lips.

His eyes darkened. It was obvious he enjoyed where your thoughts guided you.

“On fours, (Y/N).”

You shuddered. His voice was husky and authoritative. It left no room for disobedience. You even thought how he would like if instead of doing as he said, you took him inside your mouth.    

“I want you on all fours now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I think that's all for today, kids! xD
> 
> I hope you have liked it. It's been a long time since I've last written smut, so I feel I'm a bit rusty and that's not my best smut. Anyways, it's a bit more descriptive than what I use to write. At the same time, I tried to focus on Reader's feelings. When I write smut (which is not often, I prefer to write those small provocation scenes) I usually switch POVS in the middle of description, so my readers can go on a tour on what's going on inside both of my characters' minds. It's not possible here and I didn't think that writing in Hux's pov would do the story any good now...
> 
> Anyways, you decide if it's good or not.
> 
> As for the plot, there's just a bit of it here. More is to come in latter chapters. I think for the next two chapters I shall focus on them (and return to my 3k long chapters) and them go back to other characters; But let's see.
> 
> I hope you have liked it xD If you feel like, tell me what you think! I'm dying to know what you think of this smut. Like it? Love it? Hate it? 
> 
> I love you and see you... Hopefully soon! Follow me on my tumblr nymphl and stay tuned for the updates!  
> Take care and I love you all!


	13. Puppet & Puppeteer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, guys! xD  
> How are you? 
> 
> I'm sorry it took me so long to come up with this chapter. I was very busy and I although I did write a lot last week (almost 8k), I couldn't find the right way to finish this chapter. At first, it was the way it ended, then I decided it wasn't good, then I wanted something different and wrote a brand new chapter, then I was like... It's still not it... And then I settled for the first version, which will allow me to explore a few different things with this story in the upcoming chapters xD
> 
> I also started watching Castle Rock and guys, WHAT A TV SHOW. I have no words to describe how much I love this series. It's all amazing. The cast, the writing, the direction, the production... the duality between sacred and profane, human and divine, it's all so mind-blowing. Btw, Bill nails creepy better than anyone. Sissy Spacek is otherworldly... If you are watching the series and I saw episode 7 "THE QUEEN" you know what I meant. 
> 
> A huge thank you to everyone who took your time to review last chapter (as it's already almost 2 am here and I'm very tired, I won't mention all of you because I'm afraid I'll forget someone and leave a reader upset) and I'm VERY HAPPY you enjoyed it. Also thanks for the bookmarks, hits and kudos, you guys are all amazing! I love you! 
> 
> And for the two readers (you know who you're) who reviewed my chapters and I still couldn't reply, don't worry. I saw your reviews and I LOVED THEM, I really did, but I still didn't have time to come up with a decent reply. 
> 
> This chapter is a gift to all the new readers. I hope you enjoy this installment and continue to enjoy this story.

YOU TOOK A DEEP BREATH…

…and cast a glance at your superior. Then at the windows. It was getting dark already, which meant you worked overtime again. It was not something you would usually complain about — and you were not —, but the circumstances were not exactly what you would call ideal.

Some sort of new illness — apparently a common cold, they had told you, that affected _only_ alien species — killed a bunch in the last few days. As you mostly worked in the Pediatrics, you would not know that. So far, no child had been diagnosed with the symptoms she just described. At least, not by you.

You were very tired and worried. Your superior was withholding information from you and your colleagues and while you could understand how careful she was being about not causing unnecessary panic among the public, it did not hurt to spread the word among doctors.

“You should leave.” It was all she said while looking at you and another colleague. “The situation is under control. Having any of you sick for not getting proper rest would do no good right now.”

You even opened your mouth to ask for more details — you had to know, a new disease that affected alien species could be used as a motive for a riot. Even if Dantooine was a planet known for the pacific coexistence between humans and aliens, one cannot know… — but decided to let go. She would not tell. If you wanted to know anything, you would have to find out yourself.

With a sigh, you left her room and headed towards the exit. It was a surprise to find the General outside waiting for you. He was leaning against his _speeder bike,_ the electronic cigarette between his fingers. As his eyes landed on you, he immediately shut it off and straightened his body, which made he look even taller.

There was no time to greet him, for he pulled you for a kiss. And even though your lids fell closed and you quickly gave in, it felt rather weirdly to receive this kind of attention out in the open; the General always struck you as a very reserved person. Yet, you kissed him back, your fingers finding their way into his locks. However, he quickly trapped your hands between his.

He broke apart, bestowing your jaw with a small kiss, getting closer and closer to your ear. You felt your face warming up at the sensations he was waking up your body to. A shiver ran down your spine when he let go of your hands and pulled your hair a bit more forcefully, angling your head better. His lips skimmed your ear and you almost moaned — all thoughts of propriety left your mind — when he pressed his body to yours.

“ _45 degrees to your right, Nonna,_ ” he whispered in Ryl. His rich accent made you snap out of your haze of… _whatever_ he evoked in you.

You fought not to furrow your brows and to keep your expression neutral — or as it was before —, however it was difficult as you spotted the same Duros of before. The one who had said how funny it was that he always got to beat the living shit of the men you loved.

Part of you was relieved there was a reason for his actions — for his acting weirdly. Part was… almost _disappointed_ that this show of affection was not natural and instead just another plan of his. 

Biting your bottom lip, you dig your fingers into his shoulders.  

_“I thought she said a fortnight.”_

He did not reply immediately. Instead, he kissed your earlobe lightly; his breath controlled as he ran his gloved fingers over your cheeks and then your neck in a small caress.

_“She’s off world.”_

The General gave you no time to reply, snatching your lips into an overpowering kiss that had you gasping in his mouth. Before your lids fell closed in their own accord, you saw the Duros’ own lips lifting in what you assumed to be a snarl and looking away. This time, he did not stop you from sliding your hands into his pristine hair, angling his head to your better pleasure.

You broke the kiss, but did not move one inch away. He rather felt your lips moving against his than heard what you said, _“She’s watching us?”_

His lack of answer was answer enough. You almost felt like asking when she was not watching the two of you — and whom else she did not watch in that _kriffing_ planet. Your face grew hot at the idea of her spying on — literally — what you two did in the last few days. _Talk about embarrassing!_

“Come,” he said, breaking apart and offering you his hand, “Let us have dinner.”

*******

He took you to the same bistro of before — the one in which you were surrounded by Aurra’s henchmen not even a week ago… _or the one in which he set up for Aurra and her comrades_ , you were not sure anymore. The atmosphere was peaceful and if not for the despicable minion following you closely — he was not even trying to hide it anymore —, it would seem like any other date.

_Date…_

The mere word sent a shiver down your spine. It had been so many years since you last had been in anything close to a date that your heart almost sped up at the idea. It was something frivolous, you knew. Something silly, but the idea of the General courting you did funny things to you.

For a moment you almost forgot all about Aurra and her barely concealed presence. You brought the honeyed wine to your lips and sipped it lightly. You almost gasped — and made a mess of yourself — when his fingers reached for your hand across the table and he caressed the inside of your wrist.

“How was your day?”

The question _almost_ felt genuine. And if not for the horrible man four tables away from you — looking at that _kriffing_ menu for so long —, you would have believed he was interested in what you had to say.

You let your fingers entwine with his for a brief moment, before you broke apart. Although hilarious — mischievous even; it is, playing with Aurra’s perception of your relationship with the General —, the idea of faking it all did not sit well with you.

It made the blurred line of what was real and what was not between you even messier.

“Tiring,” you replied.

It sufficed. At least it usually did. He was not a man of small talk — a trace of his personality you grew rather fond of, each word coming from his lips was far more meaningful than with Aquilla, for example, and you did not know where the need to compare then came from —, but you figured out you would have to say more if you were to fool your old master.

“…and worrisome.” You brought the goblet back to your lips and took a more substantial sip now. “This new disease, it’s worrying me. There’s not much information about it yet… but it’s affecting aliens.”

There was a moment of silence — as you expected; of course, such topic would not be of his interest —, as he poured more wine for the two of you. Then, his impossibly blue eyes focused on you.

“How many aliens have died so far?”

You nodded; brows furrowed.

“How… How did you know?”

He did not reply immediately, nursing his wine in quietude. The waiter — this time a droid, which made a disappointed sigh leave you; back then, there was only sentient beings servicing you because it was part of Aurra’s plan _, the General’s plan_ , you were not so sure anymore — came back and removed your plates.

You did not wait for his answer. There was something else bothering you right now. And as far as you knew, he may have heard somewhere the growing cases of aliens falling sick around the planet, it was not exactly state secret.

“That night…” You trapped your bottom lip between your teeth for a second. “That night was your or Aurra’s doing?”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw her henchman leaning closer, as anxious as you to know the answer. There was none though.

The General rose from his chair and like a perfect gentleman, he outstretched his hand for you to take. You knew what it meant. And it made your heart sink. He would not — and it was not a preference — reply to questions you already knew the answer to. What bothered you was the fact you did not knew if he orchestrated that night only or if everything else…

Could you live knowing that everything — you and your feelings for him, _his feelings for you!_ — was nothing more than a carefully crafted plan of his?     

*******

Before you left the bistro, you informed him you would need to go to the refresher. You assured — you wondered if you did or if he already knew you were buying yourself some time — him there was no need for him to wait you inside the building.

Splashing water on your face, you looked at your trembling hands. It could be from tiredness — you had been working overtime for a few days now —, or nervousness. Or both. Taking a deep breath, you shook such ideas — whatever they were — from your mind and exited the refresher. Instead of doing what you said, he was leaning against the wall as he waited for you.

You furrowed your brows and even opened your mouth to speak, but he shook his head almost imperceptibly. He offered his hand, entwining your fingers together as he dragged you towards the kitchen.

The droids and the few sentient beings working looked at you startled — a few even said customers were not allowed in the kitchen facilities. He did not pay them any attention as he continued to head towards another exit, diverting from furniture, huge cooking equipment and desperate droids trying to stand in your way. You felt in one of those action _holomovies_ , escaping your nemesis through the kitchen instead of the front door.

A gasp left you as you noticed Aurra’s henchman was trailing right behind you. Not that close, of course, but close enough for you still glimpse him pushing humans and aliens — also droids — away as he pursued you.

You grabbed the General’s hand firmly between yours and started running. Your heart rammed against your chest as the chilly night breeze greeted you. There was no time to inhale it, though — nor to appreciate the stars in the sky — for your stalker also had left the building.

When you stepped towards his _speeder bike_ , he shook his head. Both of you would be caught if you went for the most distant vehicle. And while you knew Armitage Hux was not a man who went anywhere without his blaster, the idea of stealing something made it all the more exhilarating — and not killing someone, even if that hateful man.

He chose the closest vehicle, an old, gray _landspeeder._ As he took off, you pressed the button activating the cloaking device.

For a moment, all you could hear was the sound of the henchman’s curses and of him firing his blaster blindly.

You cast a glance at the General; he had his brows at you. Before he could ask, you said, “It’s one of Aurra’s and it’s non traceable.”

There was no answer from his part, as usual.

Your lips tilted slightly upwards as you leaned against the seat and thought about how pissed off Aurra would be when she found out the two of you escaped her incompetent spy.

“That was funny.” You did not want to laugh, but you did anyways. The General did not accompany you, but his light, small, barely noticeable smirk made you sigh in contentment. At least, there was no need to kill anyone. “She’ll be mad at you.”

“Probably,” he replied.

His answer made you want to question him further about the nature of his relationship with Aurra and the Syndicate, but you did not want to end the light mood between you.

Besides, you were sure he would not give you the answers you needed. He would be cryptic — he always was.

Silence established between you as he drove away. Even if the _landspeeder_ was slower than his _speederbike_ you should already be home by now. It made you realize he _was not_ taking you home.

“Where are we going?”

You expected him to keep silent, as he usual, and part of you worried about the places he may take you to — the General seemed to enjoy looking for trouble —, so you were surprised when he replied, “Crystal Cave”.

Your eyes snapped open at his answer.

No.

That would not do.

It was too close to Aurra’s hideout. Too close to the _kriffing_ Jedi Enclave.

You thought he was looking for a way to get rid of her henchman and her overbearing control. Not to run towards it.

“They won’t look for us there,” he clarified.

It took you a moment to understand his reasoning. “You think he’ll go to our house,” you said. He nodded. “That’s stupid.”

Aurra’s men were stupid.

Invariably, she always ended up killing them for doing something totally out of expected — and it said a lot about them, for Aurra was the Queen of improvising. Unexpected was her element.

“What about D-Five?” You placed your hand over his forearm, as if that would make him stop. “He’ll kill him!”

There was no answer from his part, not immediate at least. He looked at you as if you had grown thirty heads at the same time, as if your concern for a non-sentient being was something otherworldly.

“D-Five can take care of itself.”

“Himself,” you corrected as he stopped inside the cave. He disembarked and offered his hand for you. He guided you through the darkened space towards a barely noticeable source of light.

Even though it was once famous for its Kyber Crystal, long ago they had vanished — either destroyed or totally used; you assumed it happened even before the Empire took the reins of Dantooine — and now it was only a common cave with bats and moss. No other life form took roots in the sterile environment. The water, however, was abundant and most of its ground could be covered with an antique gondola speeder.

“He’s a protocol droid.”

How could a mere protocol droid ­­— that did not even exercised his duty — ­could defend himself from a trained — even if a moron —, soldier?

“A modified protocol droid,” he replied, focused on piloting the _water speeder._ In spite of the flashlight, the cave was pitch-black and you could barely see anything. You had heard, however, the cavern had some living arrangements at the other end of the small river that run through it. You even wondered where in the cave he was taking you, but what you wanted to badly to know was what he meant by _modified._ Which kind of modification he made on D-Five? Some part of you did not even want to know. Curiosity, however, took the best of you.

“Which kind of—

Hux placed a gloved finger over your bottom lip, silencing you for good. The _gondola speeder_ had come a stop. The slightly undulations made you hold onto his arms to balance yourself. He lost no time to pull your body to his. His closeness overwhelmed your every sense. Your eyes fell closed even before he took your lips.

You did not know if you heard or if you just imagined him saying something like _You talk too much._

*******

A contented sigh left your lips as you snuggled close to him. You traced the scar over his chest absentmindlessly; your hearing trained over the calming sound of his heartbeats. 

In return, the General traced circles over your nude arm slowly, the gentle rise and fall of his chest lulled you sleep. You were tired, but you did not want to give in just yet. Blinking lazily, you propped your weight on one elbow and took your sweet time admiring him. He had his intense blue eyes closed; ginger hair spread all over the pillow. With your free hand, you traced his face. You were not surprised to find the stubble gracing his features.

You liked it… As customary for any _twi’lek_ , Aquilla did not have any facial hair — something you enjoyed greatly about the General. You blinked a few times, wondering where the need to compare them came from — next, you would be comparing how they behaved in bed. Horrified, you removed your hand from his face and placed it again over his chest. The cadenced beating of his heart had you focusing your attention back to the mental topic. 

 _Right…_ you were admiring his face and how quickly his facial hair grew.      

He had shaved just yesterday, and his facial hair was already growing. You thought that he probably shaved daily, it is if he really enjoyed that perfect and pristine appearance of his — which he undoubtedly did, if his own remark about how he should shave and trim his hair was of any indication. Personally, you thought he would look great with a full-beard and part of you was dying to ask him to…

“You should grow a beard,” you suggested even before you could get a hold of yourself.

His reply came quickly, without any previous thought, only to leave you a bit speechless at his vehemence, “Absolutely not.”

He removed your hand from his face, but he did not open his eyes to look at you. With a sigh, you entwined your fingers over his chest and placed your chin over them. Under the covers, you slid your legs between his, looking for a more comfortable position.

You reveled in the warmth his body provided, in the very peaceful atmosphere. It was so silent — the only sound was of the running water and the natural echo of the cave; it really had living arrangements, and even if a bit outdated, everything there looked better than in your own, pitiful house —, your eyes fell closed on their own accord. This time you did not fight it — it is, the sleepiness taking over you; you merely welcomed it.

When his hand fell to the small of your back and he lightly caressed your hip, your eyes snapped open. A small gasp left your lips when you saw his own cerulean orbs intensely focused on you.

“You’ll not escape physical training tomorrow, Mrs. Hux.”

You swallowed.

Part of you felt proud of yourself for your brilliant accomplishment the last few mornings — you maneuvered him; busied him with fleshly pleasures till you had to leave for the Hospital — and another part worried he would be much rougher than he usually was.

“Yes,” you replied, casting your eyes down.

However, what you wanted to say was that this very morning was not your fault. _It was his._ You could have trained — _kriffs_ , in spite of your tiredness, you were even ready for it! — but he was the one to seduce you, to keep you in bed, till you almost arrived late at the Hospital — and if not for the _speeder bike_ you would have.

You blinked twice when his fingers found their way to your chin and he forced you to stare at him. There was no time to voice anything, for his mouth fell upon yours in a slow, passionate kiss. You reciprocated it, pushing your body against his. If not for the thin blanket covering your bodies, your breasts would be pressed against his chest.

A pleased sigh left you when he let go of your lips to shower your jaw and the column of your neck with small, brief kisses. His fingers found their way to your hair, pulling it a bit more forcefully than customary as he bit down your pulse point.

You gasped…

…and grounded your hips against his. 

“Yes, _what?_ ” 

You bit your bottom lip.

_Kriffs!_

You were not about to address him as _General_ when the two of you were naked in someone else’s bed. You were not about to admit that the mere idea turned you on — and you suspected, he was not unaffected by it as well.

“Yes, my Lord,” you tried instead.

It was all it took for him to move you under him and assault you mouth with a vicious kiss that stole your breath away. He settled between your legs, one hand pressed firmly against your hip to keep you in place and the other moved to your throat, pressing your windpipe in the exact way he knew to drive you crazy with want.

Albeit intense, the kiss was brief. When he released your lips and stared at you, you bet you had that dreamy look all over your face. He also removed his weight from over your body, lying by your side. A disappointed sigh left you; you already missed how wonderful it felt when his body was pressing yours against the mattress.

You shifted and the two of you were now sharing the same pillow. His warm breath fanned your face, his nose was almost touching yours, so close you were. His hands found their way to your hair, removing a lock and placing it behind your ear. Then his fingers were brushing your cheeks and finally your bottom lip. Your lids fluttered closed.

“Thank you for today,” you whispered, placing your hand over his. Your fingers intertwined together almost automatically.

“For running away with you and taking you in an old cave?” The bluntness of his question made you feel your face warming up.

You nodded, nonetheless.

“For the dinner…” You wetted your lips and looked directly into his eyes. “And for asking about my day. It feels good to have someone to talk to.”

Even if he did not mean it… Even it he was merely distracting Aurra’s henchman… Even if he… Even if… You were just grateful to have someone in your life. Five years was a long time. You missed sex — and it was mind-blowing, really —, but you missed having… just having someone. And if you would not sound so pathetic saying it out loud, you may have confessed a bit more.

“And thank you for running away too… That was thrilling.” You brought his fingers to your mouth, bestowing upon them a brief kiss. “And the cave is… It’s lovely…” You sighed contentedly. “I mean… I’ve never felt this happy,” you finally whispered against his lips. You brushed them together.

His brows furrowed; an unreadable look took his bluish eyes.

_“What?”_

He let go of your hands, but as he did not seem very sure where to place it, he rested them over your hip. The touch was so fleeting, it seemed as if he was afraid to touch you. Anguish seemed to take over his eyes — in the darkness of the cave, you could very well be hallucinating — and yet, he did not say anything.

Next, the General sat on the mattress; his back turned to you. A furrow took over your brows. You wanted to reach for him, to touch him, but you knew it would do you no good. He would only further distance himself.

You rolled on your back and breathed deeply through your nose.

“I know what happened to Emissary Syndulla.”

That was it.

His words — so quietly spoken, even if firmly — knocked the air out of your lungs. Your eyes widened, and your heartbeats became a mess. You sat on the bed, holding the blankets against your frame so forcefully, your knuckles went white. For a moment, your heart ramming against your ribcages was all you could hear in the silent cave — not even the sound of the running water made any difference now. In the next, however, you were shaking your head.  

“I don’t wanna know.”

He released a deep breath. His shoulders tensed visibly.

“You should.”

You shook your head again.

“No…” You outstretched your hand to touch him, and this time you did not retreat. You moved closer, your fingers brushing against his right forearm. “I meant it when I said I moved on… _With you._ ”

He cast a glance at you over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed.

“You’re afraid.”

His words had you instantly removing your hand from him. You clutched the blankets, as if it would keep you safe. As if his words — and the meaning they conveyed — could only reach you if you let go of the fabric covering your body.

“You say you have moved on, but you’re actually afraid of being unable to.”

Your heart was now on the verge of escaping through your mouth.

“I know you draw mental comparisons between the two of us.”

_Mother of moons!_

If you were weak-hearted, you knew you would have had a heart-attack by now. Your lips felt very dry as you bit onto them forcefully. Without thinking — for you could not be thinking when you opened your _kriffing_ mouth — you said the first thing that came to your mind, not noticing it would seal your fate forever.

“I would not give myself to you if that was the case.”

As his brows arched and his eyes acquired a much darker color, you knew you had screwed everything. Dragging the blankets with you, you rose from the bed and headed towards your clothes — you needed to retreat, to go somewhere — anywhere —, to put some distance between you in order to clear your mind.

_Kriffs!_

When his voice — toneless and dethatched — left his lips, you froze in place, “Is that why you always refused me?”

Your legs were so weak right now, you had to actually place a hand against the wall to keep yourself in place. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest and your mind frantically looked for any plausible response — one that would not make you look like a lying bastard in his eyes — only to find none.

He also left the bed and walked towards you.

Your eyes fluttered closed.

Your breath seemed to have left you.

Your heart stopped for a moment, only to be back at a full galloping pace.

When he put you between the wall and his body, his hand over yours, you felt yourself tensing. He placed his mouth against your ear, his warm, controlled breath — so different from yours — grazed your skin, you could not help but shiver.

“I am giving you a chance to know what happened, (Y/N).”

You pressed your lids further together; your hand fell to your sides. You felt so weak right now you could have collapsed, and if not for his arm securely holding you up, you would.

“And I am refusing it,” you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. You bit your bottom lip. This time you did not cry. There was no tears left to. “How long have you known?”

He turned you to face him; one hand still held you by the waist and the other grabbed your chin firmly, but not unkindly — but you were not exactly in the best emotional state to differentiate it right now —, forcing you to look at his eyes.

“I have always known.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... That's it for today, kids! xD  
> Did you like it? Did I surprise you?
> 
> Honestly, I don't know if that was the best ending, but that's what I could come up with xD  
> I hope you have enjoyed it. And I confess I'm very anxious to know your opinion. I know it sounds early to come up with such revelation, but believe me, I needed this to move on with the story. I have drafts for 4 different versions of this chapter and three of them didn't work if it wasn't for the way I ended this one. Hope you understand.
> 
> That said, I think I'll be able to update next Friday chapter 14. Let's see, I've two Congresses to attend to, so next week will be busy. But who knows? I was also very stressed out with work these last two weeks and it compromises my writing a lot, but it also helps alleviating the stress... 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr nymphl. And I'll see you xD 
> 
> PS: Guys, go watch Castle Rock. I mean... It's a must. There's no Domhnall in it (btw, a futile and stupid gesture is just... not my cup of tea), but it's worth your time.


	14. Dirty & Clean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, my lovelies! xD
> 
> As promised, here I am to update chapter 14 of Lie to Me! I tried my best to update last Friday, but apart from the two Congresses I had to attend in the same day (Friday), a friend of my mom, who helped her raising me died. And I couldn't get a ounce of sleep from Tuesday to Wednesday. I felt rather drained the rest of the week and the will to write was... you know, I didn't have any. 
> 
> Also, I didn't think I'd have it ready today, because I wasn't very much satisfied with what I had written, but I woke up earlier today and decided to reread and make some modifications here and there. I hope it is to your liking!
> 
> This chapter is a bit of angsty... As always, as I am not working with Hux's pov, he may seem a little bitchy in this chapter, but we don't know what he's thinking, what he's feeling. I'll see if I can write a chapter with his POV soon. For now, you'll have to bear Reader's confusing thoughts xD
> 
> As for everyone who reviewed last chapter, my biggest thanks. You guys (BellaRen, Cata_Lina, LuxAeterna, anonymous, Spacearistocrats, StarMoonDaisy and cherryart) are amazing. I know I haven't replied to all of your reviews, but I'm doing it today, it possible! xD Also, my biggest thanks to all of your bookmarks and kudos as well! Also, thanks for you guys on tumblr, thephelpstwins, yeetfully, starsmoondaisy, I love you!
> 
> Happy reading! xD 
> 
> Happy reading!

YOU COULD HAVE FAINTED.

Actually, you should have. Nothing could prepare you for what was to come. Nothing could have prepared you for what happened already.  

Part of you wanted to ask him what he meant by _I have always known,_ another was so afraid you could not even open your mouth. You decided to wait for his answer. It would come sooner or later. He knew your unspoken question; he always seemed to know what was going through your mind.

When the General pulled your body against his — your back meeting his nude chest —, you could not help but shiver. He traced your arms slowly, _lightly,_ as if you were about to become dust under his very touch. When he found your left hand and entwined your fingers together, you bit your bottom lip. When he placed a strand of hair behind your ear, you held your breath. When he ran his nose over the sensible skin of your neck and inhaled deeply, you thought you would die.

You would not dare breathing.

You could not.

“You are a terrible liar.”

_You refuse to look at me when you’re not telling the truth._

He said it once. In your heart, it felt like a long time ago, but in truth, not even two complete months had gone by.

Your heart clenched — it became really, really small — at the memory. It was a very embarrassing night with all his questions about his sexual prowess and later if you had any children _and_ if he had taken them away from you — in case they belonged to your late husband.

Fear crept through your veins at the possibility of that moment being a lie; a game well played to have your sympathy. Your trust.

It only got worse with his silence — with his fingers running your nude arms slowly; with his cadenced breathing caressing your neck. It made you wonder which moments were real — if he knew the entire truth all along why would he keep the façade of a dutiful husband? Why didn’t he confront you? He should have, right? — and which were just a lie. Was everything just a lie?     

“Was it a li-e?” Your voice broke at the end. Your throat felt dry, raspy. Sore. There was this overpowering need to cry, but no tears left. The burning sensation in the back of your eyes remained, though.

You breathed deeply and waited for his answer…   

…which did not come, as usual. In an act that both surprised and angered you — for he was playing with your feelings, _with your heart_ —, he bestowed your temple with a brief, almost reassuring _really,_ kiss.

“Was it all a lie?”

This time his reply was quick, but it only left your even more confused.

“Was it?”

His retort made your heart race. It galloped inside your chest. It beat so loudly, pumping the blood to your ears in such a strident fashion that you could barely hear the water splashing against the riverbank anymore.

“You tell me, (Y/N),” he said, his voice a mere whisper against your neck.

You shivered…

…and tightened your hold around the sheets. They covered most of your body, but they could not — could never — conceal your shame. Or hide your regrets. They were so… _kriffing_ many.

You should never have lied.

You should have told him the truth.

Hopefully, he would not kill you.

Hopefully, he would let you live.

Hopefully, he would stay with you.

Hopefully, you would still… _fall for him._

Because you needed him like… You just… You just _needed him._

“My feelings for you.” You wetted your lips. The words got stuck in your tongue, “…not a lie.”   

He breathed harshly against your ear. His hand immediately left your arm — in that small, almost a mockery of a comforting caress — and wrapped around your throat. Instead of the light pressure he usually applied, this time he held onto you a bit more forcefully, cutting your breath short. A gasp died even before it could reach your lips.

Part of you wanted to grab his hand; to pry his fingers away from you, however foolish the thought was. You decided to relax in his hold instead. Fighting him would do you no good. That was what he wanted, after all — to show how much powerful he was, how much in control of your very life he was. A God. He decided whether you lived or died.

How ironic.

You started that lie — your first lied to him — because you wanted to live and look at where you were now.

A sob was born in your throat. The tears — refreshing and very much needed — were born in your eyes and found their way to your face, staining your cheeks and gathering your chin.

When they dropped onto his hand, he loosened his hold slightly. You inhaled deeply and spoke, your voice firmer than before, “I know I love you.”

His grip on you tightened once again, bordering on unbearable this time. There was no need for a mirror to know your face was flushed. And, now, you could not help but claw pathetically at his hand, trying to loosen at least one his fingers.

He did it on his own. He let go of you and walked away. There was no need to look at him to know he had adopted that General instance of his. You took your time to breath deeply through your nose and to touch your throat. You stopped halfway, though, letting your hand fall to your sides.    

“I still can’t understand your reasoning.”

You swallowed.

You didn’t either.

Was it out of sheer, pure desperation? Or was it because you wanted him to let you live — he would kill you if he knew you were once married to someone who was part of the Resistance, right? Or was it because you wanted to keep him away from the First Order?

 _How long?_ you wanted to ask. But you felt weak and you did not want to lose your time with such a stupid question. In fact, you wondered if it really mattered. He said so himself you were a bad liar. If he figured out right away or one of these days, it changed nothing.

“Why didn’t you kill me then?” Your voice was still weak. Still filled with uncertainty. Rough around the edges. The fact you cried did not ease the burning feeling in your throat. On the contrary, it only increased.

Your heart sped at his lack of answer.

You finally got your courage to turn around and face him. He was already buttoning his black shirt and wearing his coat. It made you tighten your grip around the sheet.

“Why did you let me live if you knew all along?”

He ran his fingers through his ginger hair, combing it to near perfection; his impossibly blue eyes focused on you. When he spoke, you forgot how to breathe.

“I told you,” he started, throwing your clothes at you. You got them with one hand, the other held firmly onto the sheet. “I would have you no matter what.”  

*******

The way back in the _gondola speeder_ was as quiet as possible. The General piloted the vehicle with his back turned to you, his shoulders squared; his posture was one of a proud man. In your place, you not only had the stance of a defeated person as you felt that way.

But considering your current situation, he had no other reason to feel any differently — to behave otherwise. He had caught you in your lie, after all. He had removed your mask and stripped you off the false security of your made-up stories.   

You tightened your hold around your coat and let out a sigh. It was difficult to know if it was still dark outside when he was going deeper in the cave. Part of you wanted to ask where he was going, another did not want to even talk to him.

The earlier talk and the revelation — the fact you had been relieved of such heavy burden — should make you feel light… _clean._ Instead, his last words — his confession — made you feel _dirty_ and insignificant.

_I would have you no matter what._

It made you recall the first time he said those same words, in a different context. Both situations had your heart almost leaving you through your mouth.

_Back then, I already knew you would be mine._

If at that time you felt slightly nervous and somewhat giddy, now you knew you felt… small, used and worthless. It was as if he wanted to have you just to prove something… to prove he could — and would — have anything he wanted and not because he felt something for you.

You wondered if at some point in your brief relationship he actually cared for you — _loved you_. Part of you was dying to ask if his words after you returned from Aurra’s bistro — the night he orchestrated to make her believe you were his weakness — were truthful.

_She was right about one thing: my feelings for you._

Did he have any weaknesses?

You doubted.

Your hand shot to your face when you felt it slightly wet. You wiped the tears before he could notice — and even though he seemed lost in his own world, you knew he paid attention to everything around him — and straightened your back as he brought the _gondola speeder_ to a stop.

He disembarked and offered his hand. Unable to distinguish pretty much anything in the darkened cave, you accepted his help, placing your fingers over his. It was not lingering, though, for he let go as soon as you firmed your feet on the rocky ground.

Slightly ahead of you, he highlighted the place with a small flashlight, guiding you towards the entrance of the cavern. You were surprised, to say the least, when you noticed the cave lead to the woods close to the Hospital.

You wondered why no one ever invaded the place, but that was a very stupid question. They did — Aurra had it. The place was hers. And you suspected the General had it now — through a bargain or otherwise, you did not know, you were not sure you wanted to know.

His alliance with the Syndicate and with the Resistance was still a mystery to you. He said so himself he was loyal only to himself — and to you, and you were dying to know if the last part was the truth or not.

The General lead you through the woods in silence. You walked behind him cautious of where you stepped. If you believed the beginning of your night was funny, now you were not so sure. In fact, you hated it. Right now, all you wanted was some sleep — preferably away from him.

Your hand shot to your throat and you wondered if his grip had left any marks. He caught your action out of the corner of his eyes and he suddenly shifted to face you. Taking two steps away, you let your hand fall to your sides.

He closed the space between you and brushed his fingers against your windpipe, pressing it lightly. They almost wrapped around your throat, but he seemed to think better and let go. His bluish eyes were intense on you.

“You should have shoot me,” he whispered, flexing the fingers of his right hand slowly. Pensively. You could have said you were naked and away from the blaster, but you decided to stay silent. He seemed to have notice your reasoning, for he took two steps back and turned on his heels. He took the electronic cigarette from the pocket in his coat and lit it, bringing it to his lips, “Next time someone hurts you, shoot them dead. No pity, no remorse.”

*******

You returned home only two days later.

The thought of seeing his face again — of watching the coldness in his impossibly blue eyes — had butterflies dancing in your stomach. You knew he had been to the Hospital, waiting for you — watching you, it was difficult to know.

You wondered if it was all was not a ruse. If he was not using you to get to the Resistance. It would be much clever than killing you — it is, using you to destroy his enemies. To destroy General Organa.

It had been a few days since you gave information concerning the shipment to arrive in Rioza and so far, you received no word about the success — or utter failure, it was now more than a mere possibility, almost a certainty — of the mission.  

A shiver ran down your spine at the thought.

No.

He would not.

_He would never._

Your hand found the small necklace you were using. Was it actually some old footage of Ben Solo/Kylo Ren — you did not know how to call him. Did the General really know him? Your knowledge concerning the First Order was ridiculous. Perhaps they have never interacted, and you fell for his lies like a fool.

_Like you expected him to fall for yours._

You felt bad for judging him so harshly — it was bordering on paranoia, really —, but you could not help it. You pondered if he felt the same way when he realized you were lying about your relationship.

It is… if he was not playing you all along.

Would you ever know?

Would he ever let you know?

Would it make any difference?

With a tired sigh, you opened the front door and stepped into the kitchen. Unlike expected, D-Five did not greet you in his cheerful, dutiful voice. He was nowhere to be seen.

You removed your bag and walked towards your bedroom. The house was silent, which meant neither of them in the surroundings. You shook your head, feeling utterly relieved and got rid off your clothes.

All you needed right now was a relaxing bath. You had barely slept the last two days, you took a meaningless nap at the Hospital, but it was all so hectic with the new cases of that mysterious alien illness that you considered yourself luck for even napping. Now, some children had been diagnosed and one died in your care.

Death was always something traumatic to you.

It did not matter it was expected.

It did not matter it was for the best.

_You should have killed the General._

_General Organa should have contacted you already._

You were unable to be impassible facing the loss of a life.

_You should have shoot me._

As if!

After you prepared the hot water, you immediately climbed in, not caring for the temperature — it was slightly hotter than what you were used to — and leaned your head against the border.

It took less than a few minutes for you to fall into an uneventful slumber. Even if you had taken a few minutes of rest in the Hospital, it was not sufficient to restore your energies. It did not help that the days were so hectic — that your superior continued to hide important information from her staff.

Between your personal problems and the professional ones, whenever you closed your eyes you would either see the General or a dying alien child.

A sigh left you as your eyes snapped open out of their own accord. You immersed in the already chilling water for a few seconds and then came back; your hair completely wet. All you needed right now was some _vincha_ tea to relax your sore muscles and some sleep. The fact that your… — you did not know what to call him; surely, you should not call him husband — well, Armitage Hux was not home was a blessing of some sorts. You knew you were not ready to confront him.

You decided to go to bed without your tea — you were too tired to even think about boiling water and preparing the herbs —, but as soon as you left the refresher, you spotted him sitting at the armchair, an electronic cigarette resting between his lips.  

***

You shuddered…

…and bit your bottom lip.

Not sure of what to say — how to start a conversation and should it really be you to say something? —, you stood quietly in the middle of the room, feeling worse than a bantha in a confined space.

It was suddenly difficult to breathe.

You shivered again, this time out of cold. Nights in Dantooine were usually chilly and the fact you stayed in the water until it cooled off did not help the tiniest bit. Shaking your head and let the towel fall to your feet — even if you felt slightly nervous about being around him, there was nothing about you that he had not seen or touched.

Biting your bottom lip, you cast a glance at him over your shoulder. Relief flooded you as you found him concentrated on his _datapad_ and his cigarette. Placed over the table near the armchair there was also a glass with a golden-brown liquid you quickly recognized as Corellian brandy.

You took the opportunity to open your wardrobe, only to find it empty. There was no sign of your clothes — his clothes. You furrowed your brows. Your body went rigid when you looked at him and saw him approaching you, a dress and underwear in hand.

There was no time for you to open your mouth and ask what was the meaning of that, for he spoke for you, “We are moving out.”

Unable to process the meaning of his words — moving out? You lived there for what? Four years now? Five? Close to that, surely —, you merely snatched the dress from his hand and pulled it through your head; next you took your underwear from him. Your hair was so soaked, your clothes was quickly drenched in it.

“Where?”

You bit the inside of your cheeks. What you wanted to say was that you were headed nowhere. With him or even alone. That was your home and you were not leaving it.

“Crystal Cave.”

“That is no place to live.”

He arched one brow, looking around. You bit your bottom lip, embarrassed. There was no need to hear his words out loud. His face conveyed such meaning astoundingly well.

You shook your head, discussing your living arrangements would get you nowhere.  

“Where is D-Five?”

Instead of a quick answer, he brought the Corellian brandy to his lips. You felt your mouth dry, but you did not dare getting closer. Part of you even want to try that cigarette of his — you always heard it relaxed and it was all you needed right now.

All traces of sleep had left you — even if your body was beyond wasted —; you were very much awake.

“He’s already in the Cave.”

The fact he had called the protocol droid _he_ almost slipped you. _Almost._ You bit your bottom lip; you were dying to know if he said _he_ because at some point he started seeing the droid as more than a secondary being or because he did not want to fight over semantics. Probably the second.

He finished the Corellian brandy and placed the glass over the table, the electronic cigarette already back to his lips. As he walked to the kitchen, the trail of smoke behind him made you stay a few steps behind.

“Why are we moving?”

He was not looking at you when he replied — which in itself surprised you, for you were not expecting a quick answer, or any answer at all, “The Cave has technological and training facilities that are… adequate at best.”

You furrowed your brows.

As a General of the First Order, he probably lived with the best the technology had to offer. Dantooine was just an old and scarred planet. And even when it was under the control of both the Rebel Alliance or the Empire, it never received the best devices. All it had were some second-hand apparatus that could never compare to those used in Coruscant, both in the Republic and Empire Era, or the Hosnian Prime, in the New Republic.

“You will have your own bedroom.”

You bit your bottom lip at his words.

Even if you were hurt and wanted to stay away from him — you were so confused you did not know what you wanted anymore —, the fact that he did not want to be near you was… _confusing?_

No.

It hurt you.

It shattered… the dream?

Was it a dream? Or a lie?

The made-up story you have woven in your head, for the both of you. _Married. For three years and half._ _With growing feelings for each other._

And now… Nothing.

“Why didn’t you leave for good?”

He cast a glance at you over his shoulder. He exhaled the smoke, making you scrunch your nose. His eyes were intensely focused on you. In the bright light of the kitchen — so very different from the Cave — you could see how much darkened his irises were right now.

“You know the answer.”

His tone — whispered voice, so detached and cold — had you shivering.

You looked at the floor, focused for a moment in the indentation you found there. The house was decrepit. It looked as if it was taken from some horror _holofilm,_ really. You wondered if that was what denounced you — there was no way a couple would live in a place like that for three years and half. The Cave seemed like a mansion now.

Shaking your head — you had no time to think about where your lies had gone to waste, they were never that good to begin with —, you cast a glance at him. He had shifted and was now facing you. He removed the cigarette from his lips and exhaled the smoke once again.

His words — coupled with his penetrating stare — from earlier returned to you.

_I would have you no matter what._

They made your heart race. At the same time, it felt small. The thought of being only a possession — and not someone he cared about, _he loved_ — made you gasp with pain. You grasped your dress, right over your beating heart and looked at him, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

You needed to know.

“Do you hate me?”

There was no answer from his part. Not immediate at least. And how you wanted it to be so this time. For better or for worse. You just… needed to know. Instead, there was only silence. Sepulchral. Melancholic. Somber silence.

His movements — the movement of his arm as he brought the cigarette back to his lips —, were almost too slow. As if he was a bit lethargic. His unreadable eyes, however, removed such assumption from your head.

He was his own master as always.

You were the one affected by that conversation.

_Or lack thereof._

“I tried.”

His belated answer made you let out a deep breath. Your shoulders relaxed visibly. You let go of your dress and readied yourself for the next question.

“Do you…” You bit your bottom lip. The fact that he did not hate you did not mean much, right? It should not. Yet, you were a giddy fool right now. His answer to your next question would have the power to either crush your heart forever or cherish it for ages to come.

_Do you love me?_

You wanted to ask.

You wanted so badly to ask.

But you were afraid to know the answer.

_I know I love you._

You said once — twice — and all he did whenever you told you had feelings for him was to back off. He never seemed to take very well to your love confessions. It was as if he was…

Afraid of your feelings?

Disgusted at them?

Probably the second option.  

“Will you kill me?” you asked instead.

He shut off the cigarette and turned on his heels, heading towards the exit.

“No.”

He opened the door and held it open for you. You crossed the threshold, but instead of going towards the _hover sled_ , you looked at him. The two of you were close now — more than you have been in days. You bit your bottom lip and raised your hand to touch his face. Your fingers skimmed his jaw lightly — as if afraid he would jerk away from you —; the facial hair gracing his features made you remember your conversation before everything went downhill. A sad smile tilted the corner of your lips.

The General froze under your touch. He barely dared to breath. He did not do anything to move you away, however.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head against his chest. You felt so tired, drained even. All you wanted right now was for him to hold you close and say he forgave you for lying — that he had feelings for you.

He knew your unspoken question. It would be heaven if he could answer it right now. Answer it positively.

Instead, he ran his fingers through your hair in a soothing caress. You grabbed his shirt and pressed your face against his chest. The first tears stained both the black fabric and your face.

“Are you using me to destroy the Resistance?”

He went rigid under your touch. His answer, however, came quicker than you expected — for you were expecting no answer at all, “No.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t.”

You swallowed.

The General removed your face from his chest and tilted it slightly backwards. You expected him to wrap his hand around your throat, but he merely brushed your tears away. His bluish eyes conveyed nothing of his feelings — did he have any?

When he spoke, your heart almost stopped for a moment, before it went back to that galloping pace.  

“You will have to follow your instincts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's all for today, kids!
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter. Like I said, everything is through Reader's eyes, so we don't know what Hux is thinking/feeling. I'm also aware this chapter left you all with more questions than answers, but I'll do my best to solve them in the next chapters. We're right now where I wanted to be in this story, even if I thought it would take a while before we got to the bottom of their lies. I needed it for the plot to move forward and to tie things with both TFA and later TLJ. 
> 
> There's a bit of plot here, with the alien illness spreading in the planet and more deaths now. We'll see more of it in chapter 15 - Reliance and Mistrust. Also, Hux and Reader are moving to the Cave, which is also necessary for the plot to move a little bit, as her mistrust is also necessary. I mean... He should be the one to feel this way, but as we're seeing all through her eyes... She thought she played him, but he was playing her all the time... What we don't know yet, is if he was ever truthful... Did he like her? Love her? Tell me what you think?
> 
> Well, I hope you liked this chapter! Tell me what you think. xD
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr nymphl and stay tuned for updates!   
> See you on Friday!


	15. Reliance & Mistrust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello xD
> 
> As promised, here I'm to update the 15th installment of Lie to Me. Guys, I CAN'T believe I could update 15 chapters in a row. That's a feat for me. It has never happened before and I can only thank you for your continuing support and kind words. I love you!
> 
> I have a few things to say about this chapter: 1) it's confusing, you'll see. 2) it's confusing because it doesn't broach Hux's views 3) I tried to make it as if we're inside Reader's mind and she's besides confused, a bit paranoid... So in one moment she'll want to trust Hux with all her mighty and in the next she'll think he's only using her for his foul means. 4) I revised it while doped with antiallergic, so... I'm fine, it's just the crazy weather here in my city... 
> 
> And... thank you for every hit, every bookmark, kudo and review. For those who reviewed last chapter (Spacearistocrats, StarMoonDaisy, anonymous, Navabi, spaceginger, bitch_hips, cherryart) my biggest thanks! Navabi, welcome! I did not have any time to reply to your kind reviews, but rest assured I'll do it asap.
> 
> Happy reading!

YOU HATED IT.

And you should hate him…

…for his cryptic…

…cold…

…unfeeling…

_…kriffing…_

Behavior.

Instead, you hated yourself.

You hated that it hurt.

That you let _him_ hurt you…

…emotionally and physically…

With the pain came the anger…

…strong…

…fervent…

…unstoppable…

However, your mind worked differently when you were furious. You became much more reclusive. Focused. As you were right now. Instead of lashing out, you did take greater care with everything you did.

Tightened your hold on the blaster, you did your best to control a pained hiss. Your arms seemed on verge of falling off as you waited for him to finally tell you to stop. To be in this _kriffing_ position for so long, waiting for his instruction, was torture. _And he knew it._ Otherwise he would not have you going through the same simulation so many times. As you managed to get through the next phase of the staged attack, he would set you up for another round, till you were almost begging him for mercy.     

_As if you could…_

Outside bedroom affairs — which, you thought would not happen anytime soon —, the General hated when you begged. And you did not want to be seen as weak. Even if it would render you another lecture on not showing your weakness unless out of necessity — you wondered if that would be the way to get him to talk to you again.

Honestly, he was talking to you. But only what was necessary. Your husband was gone. In his place, only a General was left — and this General could be harsh when he wanted. 

Your worst nightmare.

Biting your bottom lip forcefully, you held the blaster firmly between your hands and waited for the targets — Imperial Troopers — to leave their hideout before you could fire. This time, however, there was something different. One of them — one of the targets — was hurt. You knew it was not true — apart from being a make-believe situation, the targets were not even real beings —, but even so, you lowered your arms.  

“How did you manage to get us here?” You breathed out in your speaker device. Apart from the VR glasses, you had your earmuffs firmly in place. The glasses set up the parallel reality and the earmuffs kept the outside sounds at bay.

The Crystal Cave indeed had training facilities that were more than adequate in your opinion. This was different from any simulation room you had seen before; instead of a practice field in which teams worked together towards some goal, you were alone and unmoving. The targets came to you and you had to shoot them before they could reach you in your own hideout. If your avatar got hurt, it would be the end for you. Luckily, you managed to escape their blasters twice now.

As expected, he did not answer your question. He seemed very focused on the targets ahead — even if he did not participate in your training, _he had no avatar for himself,_ he too could see whatever you saw through your glasses. It was all it took for you to take a deep breath and let your attention slip somewhere else.

Even if he was a jerk, you felt safe with him.

It is… you did not let your mind drift to the last time in which he had his hand wrapped around your throat…

You were very tired; physically and mentally exhausted — every single person you knew worked overtime. The new disease in Dantooine continued keep you — and your peers — on edge. In no time, the number of alien dead would surpass the number of those who died in the last few days; even the most talented physicians in the planet were worried. So far, in pediatrics almost ten alien kids had died — in your shift. You had no idea if you could trust the data provided by those in charge. And as much as you understood they were merely trying to prevent some sort of collective hysteria, at least you and your coworkers were entitled to know. Everything you had found out was your own doing.

Shaking your head, you tried to focus your attention on your surroundings. You knew this place — this part of the cave. You had been there once with Aurra Sing before, when you were in your late teens. If your husband — the General, you quickly corrected yourself, there was no need to keep indulging your thoughts of that lie; he had figured out everything — thought it was _adequate at best,_ it was because the First Order was… _otherworldly._

A shudder ran down your spine.

He was fine now — more than fine, if you were to be honest, his physical condition was flawless —, so why would he still linger? Why not go back to the First Order?  

Honestly, you were not sure if you could trust him.

His negative answer when you questioned him about you being a bait to attract and defeat — that was important — the Resistance had you relieved.

Now…

…now you were not so sure.

“Fire.”

His voice, so dethatched and whispered through the speaker device, had you shivering. He was right behind you, quite but not touching. The last week living in the Cave he barely got within an arm of distance from you — always distant, always in his own mind. Having him this close now was… almost weird. Even when you trained — and for the maker, he made sure you trained hard every day and he could be as intense in your training as he was in your bed; your ardent lover had vanished, in its place, there was the business-like General — he would keep his distance. The last time in which you were in his arms, you were crying and asking how you could trust him, only to get a vague answer.

It was difficult to trust him — or get even near to it — when he barely interacted with you. How could he expect you to follow your _kriffing_ instincts when he barely looked at you? When all you had were a huge pile of doubts that only got bigger? When he was vague in his answers? For whenever he answered one of your questions you had another ten springing in your mind.   

You snapped your attention back to the targets, but nothing seemed to have changed in their previous stance. You furrowed your brows, but he paid you no attention.  

“Now,” he spoke again, this time his voice was firmer than before.

You had no reason to shoot when they were not moving — they were not attacking — and seemed to be paying some sort of medical care to one of theirs. Your moral convictions prevented you from attacking any hurt being — real or not, enemy or otherwise. The General was the living proof of that. It was simply beneath you and everything your father — your mother _and Aquilla_ — stood for. However, you quickly realized your mistake as one of them — who was previously stretched out on the floor and apparently hurt — rose to his feet and opened his hand. A grenade lay in it, ready to be launched.

Without waiting for your move — you sincerely did not expect such plot twist —, the General opened fire against them — his avatar flashing before your peripheral vision —, knocking out all four targets quicker than your eyes could follow.

Next, he pressed a button at your left, shutting down the transmission before the grenade could go off. Your glasses darkened, forcing you to remove them. As you were greeted by the strong light in the simulation room, you had to blink a few times to get used to the new sight before your eyes. Honestly, you did not know which was worse: the light or the General’s judging eyes.

Not really ready for the reprimand of your life, you took your time to remove the earmuffs, letting them rest around your neck.

“I am sorry?” you tried, unsure on what to say. Besides, what could have you done? You certainly did not expect the targets to fake a situation — in a simulation! — just to attack you shortly after. Your first instinct was to always believe a hurt person — how else could you save lives if you did not believe your patients in the first place? You knew they did not qualify as such, but your point was still valid.

At least it seemed in your mind.     

“Your naivety almost got you killed.”

You pursed your lips into a thin line. You expected him to call your action one of compassion, not ingenuousness — and honestly you did not know which was worse in his eyes. You even opened your mouth to say it was only a make-believe situation, but you figured out it would do you no good. Apologizing would not do, as it would be seen as another act of weakness in his eyes.

“Who runs this part of the Cave?”

The General narrowed his eyes at you; he certainly did not see that question coming. With his hands entwined at his back, in what you called his _General posture_ , he walked away from you; his shoulders set straight.

“I do.”

You furrowed your brows. It simply made no sense. No one in their right mind would simply abandon this place, only for the General to take it under his control, that much you were sure. And only one person crossed your thoughts at the moment: Aurra — and her precious Syndicate, of course.

“Aurra Sing gave up this place for me. In its entirety.”

At least you were sure of the first part; the second made no sense whatsoever. You did not know the details of their partnership, but you were sure she would not simply give up a Crystal Cave, that was so closely related and so important for the Jedi she hated so much that easily. Something smelled fishy.

_Everything about him smells fishy._

“Why?”

_How?_

“She already controls the _Jedi Enclave_ , the _Imperial Outpost_ and the Mining Outpost, giving up the Cave did not seem to bother her that much.”

You gaped. Besides the unlikely gesture or deal — that did not seem anything alike the Aurra Sing you knew —, it had been days since the General last spoke that much to you, that he even deemed you worthy of his stare. Shaking your head, you concentrated on the topic at hand: the Cave had training facilities unlike any other in Dantooine. Why would Aurra— you stopped mid-thought. _Of course…_

“She doesn’t truly know about the simulation rooms.”

The General snorted. You took a few steps closer to him and folded your arms at your chest. Contrary to your expectations, he did not step away.

“She does.”  

_Then…?_

“Aurra Sing doesn’t care about simulation rooms,” he said, taking two steps closer. It was enough to set his shiny boots barely an inch away from yours. “However, she isn’t aware this Cave has some old, albeit functional ships.”

It simply made no sense.

You shook your head. You did not know what that quick mind of his was working on, but you did not like it not even one bit. You did not trust Aurra…

…and you were not sure you could trust him either.

In spite of his words, in spite of your foolish heart that wanted so bad to believe him — to believe he had feelings for you —, your mind… _your guts…_ told you to stay wide awake when near him. 

_I trust him with my life…_

A shiver ran down your spine. His involvement with the Resistance and the Syndicate at the same time made no sense at all. And made it very difficult to trust him. How could he be loyal to two distinct factions — with very different beliefs — at once?

_I am loyal only to myself…_

You shook your head. You even reached out to him, but not sure if you should touch him or not, you entwined your fingers in front of your lap.   

“I don’t want you involved with her.”

_And part of me wants you away from the Resistance now._

The fact that General Organa had not contacted you yet, made it all the more difficult for you to trust him.

His response was immediate this time, “I know.”

_Then… why?_

You even opened your mouth to ask him to clarify this issue, but his leather-gloved finger over your bottom lip made your freeze in place. It was the first time in days… It was the first time he _touched_ you. _Willingly._ Sometimes he would fix your posture in your training, but that was not a lingering touch. Unlike this very one. He cast a sideways glance, directing your own eyes towards the point over his shoulder. Before you could say anything, his lips fell upon yours in a.. kiss.

You could not even describe it.

_Mechanic?_

_Cold?_

_Thought-out?_

Everything but passionate.

If his words made no sense to you before, his actions felt even more absurd. Either way, you sighed against his lips and kissed him back, holding onto him for dear life — you were touch-starved, which was laughable considering you spent five years without… getting any action. He seemed determined to keep it — the kiss — in a… professional level. His usual voraciousness was gone.

It was a relief when he broke apart when the lights went out and the two of you were left in the dark.

You could say now you missed the power shortages in Dantooine. At least it was something completely predictable, contrary to the General’s cryptic behavior. The growing doubt that gripped your heart and did not seem about to let go seemed to only increase.

“What was that?” you asked, but quickly shook your head. _“She’s watching everything, isn’t she?”_ This time, you spoke in Ryl, your voice no more than a whisper against his lips — you were still in his arms, still holding onto him, still waiting for him to kiss you properly. _Yearning for it._ Even if she knew and spoke the language to perfection, you doubted any of her henchmen — if any of them was in the Cave following you, which was probably the case — knew.

He nodded.

 _“I just don’t understand…”_ you spoke in a rushed tone, trying to clear your mind of any doubts before the lights flickered back — part of you wondered if that was not staged by him; to act as if he was being watched to get you to believe Aurra was the enemy —, but it was very difficult. His shady decisions had you on edge. _“Why_ _would you do what she wants?”_

 _“Why not?”_ the General replied. His lips moved over yours in a small caress that had you sighing against him.

In your current state — in your heart’s current state —, it was very difficult to say no to him. Unlike his kiss, his fingers ghosting over your clavicle — but never getting closer to your throat; he seemed very conscious how he snapped last time — was anything but mechanic. His lips moved from yours to your cheeks and then your jaw… running the length of your skin towards your chin and finally stopping at your chin.   

 _“It’s just…”_ You shut your lips when he started unbuttoning your shirt. You blinked. That was absolutely not the best moment to engage in intimacy, but you were so… _needy_ right now. If you thought about using sex as a way to get the upper hand in this relationship before, now you knew you could never be as good as him. _“How long till the power is back?”_

 _“Two more minutes.”_ You shuddered as he parted from you and removed his own black shirt and brought you back to his arms. You were about to comment it was not enough time for the two of you to… do anything properly — the lights were about to flicker in and the cameras would record everything —, but his lips were on your ears, _“She’s just found out about the ships and she’s going to destroy them.”_

 _“But I thought…”_ You closed your eyes as he sat you over the balcony where you put your training devices and settled between your thighs; your legs automatically wrapped around his waist. “ _You’re making absolutely no sense.”_

As his lips fell over your throat and he kissed it lightly, you knew you had lost your ability to think. He did not take his time there, however, going back to your mouth and brushing his tongue against your bottom lip. He merely teased you, not kissing you for real. You groaned in frustration. 

_“Please.”_

You were conflicted.

Part of you wanted — needed even — to go further with that. _Needed him._ Realistically, you knew it was all a game to deceive Aurra — or deceive you, you did not know anymore —, he knew what you wanted — he always seemed to know — and he was using sex as a tool to… — you swallowed, because you hated how truthful the word rang — to _manipulate_ you.  

 _“So easily distracted…”_ the General finally silenced you with his lips. As the lights flickered in again, you could not be gladder that he was finally kissing you for real.     

*******

A disappointed sigh left you as soon as you closed your eyes in the darkened bedroom.

Your bedroom.

_Not his._

You were alone.

_Not with him._

After bestowing you with a mind-blowing kiss, the General took you to your chambers. Part of you thought — you were hopeful even —, that the two of you would finally get physical.

_Tsk._

All he did was to drop you onto the mattress and turn on his heels. He just left you alone. For a few minutes, you just stood positioned on your elbows waiting — hoping — for him to come back. Right now, it did not matter that he was using sex as a tool to manipulate you, you just needed it.

Now… as the lusty cloud left you — after you took matters into your own hands — you were glad he did nothing. You were glad he left.

At the same time, you were angry.

With yourself.

_For the maker!_

How could you be so stupid? You were never this irrational — gullible and stupid — with Aquilla. It is a fact that Aquilla never used sex as a tool… However, being married to an alien — and having sexual relations with them — was completely different than with a human — there was always extra care involved and _twi’leks_ saw marriage was something sacred — not a lie to toy with. What you meant was that Aquilla would never tease you and leave you… _wanting._

Perhaps next time you saw him you should tell him that.

If he said last time you kept comparing the two of them, then you should take comparisons to the next level. You wondered how long it would take for that nonchalant mask of his to fall after you told him Aquilla never teased just to leave you… _unsatisfied._

Shaking your head, you tried to clear your mind of everything. Honestly, you were horrified you could think of something so mean. The General had issues — several, actually — and your childish behavior could — would — worsen them.

You closed your eyes and pulled the blankets to your chin, falling into an uneventful slumber shortly after.

*******

It was middle of the night when you woke up by yourself. A nightmare about the General leaving you for good — without looking back — haunted your sleep. Your swallowed, but it was raspy. Your throat felt dry.

You sat on the bed and reached for the bottle, only to have it handed to you.

If the situation — if you did not feel so numb because of the dream —, you probably would have been startled. Instead, you accepted the bottle and drank the water in big gulps. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and looked at him in the darkened bedroom.

He was sitting in a chair close to your bed, completely focused on his _datapad._ The sound of his fingers working on the screen had you blinking a few times. Even if you had just woken up by yourself, you were still struggling to stay awake.

You bit your bottom lip and shook your head. So many questions you wanted — _needed even_ — to ask, that you could not afford to sleep right now. It could — and would — come later.

“What was that earlier?” Your voice was small, unsure as you started. “Why are we really here?” You cast your eyes to your lap. Your body was covered with the softest fabric you had ever touched. The sheets were very pleasing to the touch. Even after a week living in the Cave, with sheets like that and a bed way bigger and comfortable than yours, you could not say you were happier here. You were very happy in the Cave in the first time you visited it, after your small adventure with the General. And even if you knew his demeanor had nothing to do with the place, you did not want to live in a place where he seldom spoke to you — in a place where he only kissed you because cameras would capture it. Your eyes widened when the thought hit you, “Are there cameras in this room?”

The corner of his lips tilted slightly upwards — which set your heart into a frenzied beat —, but his answer came quickly, “No.”

A relieved sigh left you. Honestly, you did not need for Aurra Sing to watch whatever you did in that room. Or even the General. That would be beyond embarrassing. You did not know about him, but you _did mind_ being in the spotlight.

As you saw the lingering shadow of a smirk on his lips, you froze.

“You know.”

His lack of answer had heat touching towards your face… _gripping it._ That was the perfect time to compare him to Aquilla.

_No._

You shook your head.

There were far more pressing matters. _This…_ whatever _this_ was… _Is…_ — you had no idea anymore — could wait. You had to question his decisions concerning this very night. His touches — even if welcomed — came out of nowhere. He was using sex as a means of distraction. You were sure of it. If you yourself thought about it before — even if you did not act on it, you planned it —, the General would act on it; he was not above such machinations. What’s more, he proved for the second — third? you were no longer sure — time you were his to do as he pleased.

_Easily distracted…_

What bothered you was the fact he was right. The feeling of being beaten in a game you planned to play in the first place did not sit well with you.

“You manipulated me through sex.”

He shifted his attention to you. His piercing, impossibly blue eyes focused on your face. There was no need for a loud answer, for his orbs told you enough.

You bit your bottom lip.

“You think I am easy to manipulate.”

He did not look anywhere when the next words left his lips, “I know it.”

His answer knocked the air out of your lungs. You sat rigidly in your bed and tugged the sheets to your chin — you felt stupid for taking your clothes off. You would not feel so vulnerable right now if you put on something before you drifted to sleep.

But that was all.

It did not hurt you. His mean words. His cold demeanor.

By now… you were _almost_ used to it. You felt so numb right now nothing he could have said would make you feel any worse.

“What are you doing here?”

Unlike last time, now he took his time to reply. You just sat there watching him type something on his _datapad_ in silence. He was no longer looking at you — which was somewhat a relief —, his attention solely focused on the device.       

 _How long were you here?_ you even wanted to ask but gave up shortly after. You could deal with everything right now, but not with the fact of knowing he had seen you — watched — as you pleasured yourself and sighed his name — _imagined him doing things to you._

You shook your head.

“ _My…_ ” You closed your mouth — addressing him as _my Lord_ when you suspected he may have caught you doing the deed was far too embarrassing —, and tried again “Armitage?” you asked, your voice wavering this time, you were not really sure what to call him. Going back to your usual _my Lord_ would not do, not with all the memories of that first night in the cave… Calling him your husband was an even greater absurd. But would he find it weird if all of a sudden you stopped addressing him formally or he would welcome it that you called him more intimately?

Besides, going back was not what you had in mind. If you wanted to move on with him, with you wanted to have a real relationship with him, you had to get closer… Your heart sped at the thought, but you knew it to be truthful: you had to start trusting him.

_Right…?_

You rose to your feet and cast a look at his _datapad._ It took you a while to recognize what he was doing and where he was doing it — for you were seeing everything upside down — but as you realized he was staring at some sort of files concerning the First Order, you felt an irrational fear gripping your heart.

_Trust him with my life…_

He chose that exact time to ask you to repeat the symptoms you had told him earlier when you told him about your day at the Hospital. You furrowed your brows, but recited them nonetheless, “It’s like a common cold, except that those infected with it are dying in three days-time. They’re afflicted with nasal congestion, fatigue, coughing and high appetite. What does it have to—

You stopped yourself. He would not answer to your question. And you were afraid of his answers. This conversation had you leaving the bed and looking for your clothes in the dim-lighted room. If you were to have that conversation — or any sort of conversation — it would absolutely not do to stay naked.

He cast a glance at you, his eyes narrowing as he watched your covering yourself from his prying eyes. Very conscious of his rapt attention, you wetted your lips and sat back on the mattress, pulling the blankets to cover yourself, “They seemed to have acquired a new taste for human flesh out of the blue as well.”

There was a moment of silence between you as his fingers stopped working on whatever he was… _working._ His eyes remained on you the whole time as he seemed to contemplate the new bit of information you just released — something you did not tell him before and that you regretted telling now.

“You’re not returning tomorrow.”

_And there we go…_

You felt highly stupid for saying that. So far, only two of the infected alien species showed any sort of addiction to human flesh — out of several! You thought that you were particularly safe. Not to mention, you were responsible for taking care of the children — and they rarely represented any danger.

Not to mention… He did not seem to care about you.

_To love you._

Did it really matter if you died or lived?

And if he wanted you alive, was it because he felt something for you or because he thought you could be useful?

“Listen,” you started, biting your bottom lip. Convincing the General you were out of danger would be a difficult task, but you were willing to reason with him either way. Then you furrowed your brows, curiosity — mistrust — taking over you. You almost said that Aquilla would never ask you to stop working — to stop helping others when they needed you most. But should the words leave your lips, you would regret them forever — like you regretted reveling the whole truth that day. You shook your head and said, “Why are you so interested? You’re not even a doctor.”

He narrowed his eyes at you — it was as if he knew your traitorous thoughts —, but instead of giving you a direct answer, he opted to ask, “What do you know of the Kryto virus?”

You furrowed your brows. You simply hated how cryptic he was sometimes.

It did not make it any easier to trust him.

_For the maker!_

Your doubts were bordering on paranoia. For the first time, you realized that him knowing everything — and not telling how he figured out everything — was a heavy burden. His silent, offended even demeanor — and what did he have to be offended about when he lied to you as well? — prevented you from trusting him fully. It prevented you from letting go of the past — look at how many times you compared him to Aquilla in a short spam of time! — and truly moving on.

_Trust him with my life…_

As if…

Not even ten minutes ago you were sure he was manipulating you through sex. He was hiding something from you.

_Loyal to myself and to you…_

For real?

If he could lie about believing — buying — your own lies, why would he say he truth his loyalty?  

“What does it have to do with—” You stopped midsentence, realization finally sinking on you, “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” he replied, handing you the _datapad._ He was reading some sort of article related to deadly viruses released by the Empire in an attempt to destroy the New Republic, of them was the famous _Kryto Virus_ , a bioweapon responsible for taking the lives of millions of aliens back in 7 ABY.

You were a mere toddler when it happened and the subsequent Bacta Wars, but the misery you saw taking over the very planet in which you lived now would be forever marred in form of your father’s frown whenever he looked at you or you listened to him crying himself to sleep at night.

The mere thought of something of such scale taking over the galaxy again made a cold shiver ran down your spine and a deep, horrendous fear grip your very heart, squeezing it mercilessly. 

Clearing your throat, you handed the _datapad_ back to him. All traces of sleep had left you and now you were wide awake and very much frightened. Subconsciously, you reached for his hand and entwined your fingers together. When you realized what you were doing, you were ready to pull away, but he tightened his hold over you lightly.

_You will have to follow your instincts._

For the first time his words started making sense to you. The paranoia was leaving your system. Understanding flooded you. He did hide tons of stuff from you, but if he did have anything to keep from you — concerning the disease at least —, he certainly would not show you the article, would he?

With his left hand only, he started typing something else in the flat screen and shortly after you were staring at several sketches. It showcased a Dantari with some red spots on the face and body. Each spot had a brief description that matched exactly the symptoms the patients at the Hospital displayed.

Instead of asking the obvious question, instead of putting the blame where it was due — _paranoid!_ you were paranoid —, you said, “So… you have all of your accesses to the First Order database?”

You bit your bottom lip as you waited for his reply.

“Mostly.”

You took your time to voice your next question. You were really not sure you were ready for his answer — whatever it may be.

“Did you know it?”

“Possibly,” he replied, his eyes focused on you. When you looked down at your joined hands, he used his thumb to caress the inside of your wrist. His touch burned your skin, so you quickly disentangled your fingers and moved away from him. Your action made him straighten his back. “I have not regained all of my memories, so I do not know.”

The thought of his lost memories — he would not and could not know, for he knew nothing of his past before the attempt on his life — should make you feel relieved, but you felt even tenser now. Without knowing, he could be the very responsible for this new development in Dantooine. It is, if he coordinated the invasion of your planet, he could also have orchestrated this new virus, right?  

Not for the first time you wondered if you did the right thing by saving him. And even if it hurt you beyond imagination the thought of how empty your life would be, you could not help but ask yourself if you were not in the wrong right now.

“Have you ever lost your memories?”

He narrowed his eyes at you.

There was moment of absolute, sepulchral silence. You thought you forgot how to breathe; your heart was beating madly inside your chest as you waited for his answer. When it came, you were left agape. 

“You should sleep,” he said, getting on his feet. You were not sure if his face was that expressionless or if you were imagining stuff. 

He moved his fingers over your temple, placing a strand of hair behind your ear. Before he could caress your face, however, you snapped his hand away.

“Is there any cure in any of these articles?”

He had his eyes narrowed, but he did not comment on your sudden change in behavior. He retreated — both physically and emotionally —, looking for his leather gloves in the dressing table in the other corner of the room.

The silence was almost unbearable as he placed his blaster in its holder. You wanted to say something, your throat even burned with it, but you felt unable to even open your mouth.

“Do you trust me?”

_…with my life._

You bit your bottom lip. You wanted to say yes. You wanted to be as sure as you were when you told General Organa just a few days ago, but could not.

_For the maker!_

You swallowed.

He grabbed his coat and headed for the exit. He had his hands clasped on his back when he spoke without even casting one last glance at you, “Do not wait for me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for today, kids! xD  
> I hope you have liked it. 
> 
> As I am doped, I honestly don't have much to say... I can only thank you for your continuing support and love for this story. And I think that's all. I'm sorry. I am really useless when I take antiallergic. And believe me when I say I have slept more than enough - almost twelve hours in a row... but I'm still sleepy and lethargic. 
> 
> Hopefully, I'll be able to take this weekend to write In the General's Bed. It's been a month or so since my last update xD
> 
> Now, would you mind telling me what you think about this chapter? I'd love to hear from you. 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl and stay tunned for... whatever I post there xD


	16. Guilty & Innocent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, darlings xD
> 
> Sadly, I couldn't update last Friday (real life got in the middle), but here I am with the 16th installment of Lie to Me: Guilty & Innocent. Honestly, I'm not much of a fan of this chapter, it's more of a set up for chapter 17 and 18... and all the subsequent chapters. But I do like the first scene with Hux. I hope you like it as well xD 
> 
> My biggest thanks to everyone who left kudos, bookmarked this story and reviewed last chapter (Spacearistocrats, LuxAeterna, StarMoonDaisy, anonymous, cherryart, Cata_Lina, spaceginger and ghost) You guys are all amazing. I couldn't reply to your reviews, but I hope you know how much I appreciate your continuous support and kind words. Special thanks to ghost for reviewing all my chapters. 
> 
> thephelpstwins, I love you <3 <3 <3 
> 
> Happy reading!

IT HAD BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE ARMITAGE HUX LAST SAW THAT ARMOR. THE ONLY INDICATION HE HAD HIS WORDS HAD NOT GONE TO WASTE WERE THE SLIGHT AND OCCASIONAL NODS HE COULD SEE THROUGH THE COMPROMISED TRANSMISSION.

The poor broadcast made it difficult for him to understand the already muffled words because of the gigantic helmet. Yet, he insisted. There was something he needed to know, and it could not be delayed any longer.

Depending on the answers he got, he would have to change his plans drastically. The future — his future, her future and the First Order’s as well and why not the whole galaxy? — depended on what Captain Phasma would say. She was, in no way, a reliable source — he doubted anyone in the First Order could be considered as such —, but the Captain of the Stormtroopers was no Politian.

As a militarist, she was good at following orders, not defying them, and yet…

…they had history together.

And if there was someone he came closer to ever trust, he could say it was the chromium-armored stormtrooper. In truth, she said very little, but more than enough for someone such as himself. Out of the triumvirate — one out of many in the First Order —, Armitage Hux could say he was the best strategist — not blessed with either the Force or physical strength, the slim and awkwardly tall boy had to work on his forte: his brain.

In any case, the possibility of another betrayal — something he quite did not expect the first time around — would not come off as a surprise at this point. He was counting on it. In fact, he planned the probable outcome for each situation. No one could say the General was a man who enjoyed the unexpected — that was why he never had time for people nor relationships; feelings were unpredictable —, and while he adapted quite easily, his distaste for such was immensurable.

The unforeseen made him feel powerless and everything that did not add for his bright future as Supreme Leader — Emperor, no one could say he dreamed little — was disposable. _A controller_. Armitage Hux was a control freak and everything — people and feelings included — that could not be controllable was better left behind. Thankfully, Captain Phasma fell in the first category.   

“There’s word out there that you betrayed the Order.”

He narrowed his eyes — something she would not be able to see given the transmission.

“Careful, Phasma.”

His strategy was quite simple, really. After his reveal, Captain Phasma would either keep his secret or she would tell the Supreme Leader — or even Ren himself. Or they would read right through her —  he could only hope she learned by now how to conceal her thoughts.

Nevertheless, he was ready for any outcome. If the latter happened, his plans would only be hastened a bit.

“The Resistance attacked us in Rioza. They stole the shipment in its entirety. Some believe you feed them information.”

He thought that a smirk would have looked too suspicious. And yet he smirked. The slight tilt of his lips went unnoticed by the Captain.

Instead of giving her an answer — of soothing her fears and insecurities —, he chose silence. And she knew better than to expect a response for such a stupid statement.

“So… You’re coming back? You’ll prove them wrong.”

It sounded like a question — and it was a question; Captain Phasma lacked the intricacies of a more modulated speech —, but it was also a half-assertion. Once he was alive, it was expected of him to come back. The First Order was his life — after all, he had been molded for the position and role he fit in right now; the fact he was at the sore end of the bargain, with less than he deserved was a mere casualty —; he had pledged his life to it.

Not satisfied in taking his life — or almost taking, it would be a surprise when they saw he was in fact very much alive —, those who plotted against him managed to destroy his reputation in the Order.

He almost snorted.

The irony was too good to miss. The poster-boy, the golden General — a Grand-Marshall if they would so give what he deserved and worked so hard for —, was no more than a traitor.

Shaking such thoughts away, he concentrated in her question.         

_I make no idle promises._

The words were on his tongue, dying to be unleashed. He knew better. Even though he said it once, in a vastly different context, true, the meaning applied for the situation at hand. Suffice to say that Armitage Hux was a man whose distaste for the unpredictable rivaled his aversion to small talk and stating the obvious. If Phasma learned to battle with her physical strength, the slim, tall, awkwardly ginger Arkanisian boy was forced to quickly understand the power of the words.  

Instead, he nodded.

*******

_Guilt…_

You felt guilty before, but it could not compare to how you felt now. It was destroying you to know he had left and was yet to come back. When he said _do not wait for me,_ you thought he meant for the night, not for whole four days.

_A monster…_

You felt like a monster for not giving him an answer.

But what else could you say? What else could you do? You were caught in your lies once, it was not like you could say you trusted him when you were not sure you did. You were cornered. Afraid and feeling guilty.

You had not realized it before, but you regretted saving him — you thought that was not something that would go away. He was the enemy. He and his precious First Order had invaded your planet — _your home._ It is true they betrayed him and tried to have him killed — and only the _Maker_ could know why. You wondered if the General knew the truth himself — not the twisted lie you told him. 

Besides, he said himself he probably knew about the new virus wreaking havoc in Dantooine, causing the death of so many aliens right now.

He could have lied. He could have said he had nothing to do with it, but he decided to be honest, and so did you.  

You just did not expect him to leave for good.

It had been four days since he left. Obviously, you paid no heed to his warning. You had to go back. You had to work. Your coworkers — the few of them who did not stop working — were counting on you; lives depended on you. You had to go back to the Hospital. Your own life and safety meant very little face to the gravity of the situation.

The possibility of getting infected by the disease was no longer a threat — it was confirmed it was spread through the water and only alien species were vulnerable to it. Unlike the Krytos Virus, this one — the _alien flu_ as your coworkers called it — could not be reversed by using bacta in the treatment. And if the most powerful healing substance could not kill it, you doubted anything else would. You had discovered — out of sheer luck or utter despair, you were no longer sure — that a small substance, not found in abundance in Dantooine and already out stock, seemed to alleviate the symptoms and delay the impeding death.

Yet, even if the risk of getting sick was nil, at least one healer had been eaten by the crazed aliens quarantined.  You would be lying if you said the possibility of being eaten alive did not scare you. However — and you could not help the comparison —, Aquilla would never let it hinder him. You could only hope the General understood it. Saving people was in your DNA, you could not help it.

At least, that was what you prepared yourself for when you returned to the Cave — your own house had been invaded by homeless, sick aliens; something you would not and could not complain about, they needed it more than you ever did —, only to find it empty. D-Five was making dinner for you only. The always so very efficient and proactive protocol droid told you he would not come back that day, but he was ready to be your company and talk about whatever topic you saw fit. The talk did not take place in the next day either, for you were welcomed with the same words. On the third day you gave up on the talk. You would not return to find the Cave empty.  

Today, you felt very inclined to stay at the Hospital again.

A tired sigh left you as you entered the refresher. It was a very hot day in Dantooine and even though you longed to get home — if you could call the cold and dark Cave as such —, and get some rest, you knew you had to stay awake to take care of the children in your care.

You splashed cool water in your face, trying to wash away the sleepiness that began to take over you. The mirror placed on the wall showed you a very different face from not even a week ago. You had dark circles under your eyes and your skin lacked the luster of a healthy person. It did not help you could barely eat for the past few days — worry always compromised your appetite greatly.

Placing your hands over your face, you took a moment to breathe deeply and keep your thoughts at bay. A part of you wondered if he died — it was quickly dismissed; he was too smart to die that easily and you thought you would know, you knew when Aquilla died, it was not something rational, more like empirical, you just knew —, and part cogitated the possibility of him going back to the First Order.

_I am loyal only to myself._

…and to you.

Is he though?

You shook your head. He would not go back to them. They betrayed him. They conspired to have him killed — or so he said, and could you trust him? Senator Organa was still to get back to you…   

…And he said himself you should not wait for him.

It was impossible not to wonder if he was back to the First Order. He was a General and someone of his position — in control of such immensurable power — would hardly let go.

Your thoughts were interrupted with the buzz of your comm-relay. You took it with you as soon as you left home in the first day, too worried to stay parted from it — you had to know what happened to General Organa, you needed to. However, you were afraid of sending a message and it falling on the wrong hands — only the Maker could know how many lives such a message could affect.

Not giving it much thought, you opened the comm-relay only to be greeted by the tired and old face of the woman who invaded your mind more than you would like for the past few days.      

*******

“Were the Coordinates right? Did everything go—

You stopped yourself, biting the inside of your cheeks to the point you felt the coppery taste in your tongue. You closed your eyes — well, it was too late to say anything else now.

_Kriffs._

If she did not know before that you did not trust your contact, she knew now. In her place — even if everything went smoothly, you would not trust this deserter of the First Order. It was clear that unlike Finn — or FN-2187 and what a dehumanizing way of calling someone —, your contact was not reliable.  

_I trust him with my life._

As if.

If she noticed your internal conflict, she chose not to comment on it, “Tell your contact we are grateful for all the information he has provided.”

You were not sure if she noticed it either, but you straightened your back. It felt as if a heavy weight was lifted off your shoulders. It felt as if you could finally breathe again. And you took a deep intake of breath. Your lungs burned with the amount of air you inhaled. And yet, you would not trade this sensation for anything else.

With the relief, came the regret.

You were once again guilt-ridden.

You should have trusted him.

You should have believed him.

You should have…

…let go of your apprehensiveness and listened to him. Listened to your heart that wanted so badly to accept his words and not to your mind, that wanted to paint him as the villain of your story.

He was… innocent all long and you were just… _Kriffs._ A monster for judging him so harshly. 

“…not only right, but useful as well.”

Shaking your thoughts away, you decided to actually look at her and pay attention to what she said.

“What took you so long?” you asked, not really sure you overstepped your boundaries. The nature of your relationship was not clear as of yet. However, you had to know. If the cause of her delay was not related to an imaginary — you were such a fool — betrayal on Hux’s part, you needed to know the reason. 

General Organa took a moment to answer, as if testing her words. As if testing… _you_. It was clear she was surprised at your disarray, but once again she chose not to comment on it. If she was preserving your privacy or if she did not trust you to such extent, you did not know.

“A new disease spread in the outer-rim territories kept the Resistance busy.”

Your eyes widened.

“The Alien Flu…” It left your lips in a meek whisper. You knew it was bad, but you had no idea it was spread in planets other than Dantooine. If eradicating a disease in a single planet was almost impossible, you could not say what you expected of part of the galaxy. _“Kriffs!”_

There was moment of silence.

Senator Organa was most like analyzing your reaction. And you could not say you judged her. In her place, you would do the same — if Aquilla had not spoken about this, you could say the General taught you with his posture, but you knew that silence spoke volumes about a person or a situation.

“Perhaps your contact knows something about the disease and its cure.”

It was your time to keep silent, however brief it was. Soon, the words came to life in your mouth, “No. He doesn’t.”

Her expression was somewhat blank. You had no idea if it meant she believed you or if she thought everything you said was utter bullshit. General Organa did not strike you as someone who trusted others — even if they helped her once — that easily. On your part, you were surprised for defending him so vehemently.

_He could be innocent._

_He is innocent._

Even if the concept of innocence did not apply to those in an organization that profited by waging War in the galaxy — by those who believed in a project of a fallen Empire, the very embodiment of tyranny and villainy.   

_Kriffs._

You did not know what to believe anymore. The fact that he simply vanished did not help the tiniest bit. 

“I thought as much.” She brought a bottle of water to her lips. It concealed most of her face. “Only someone of the highest ranks would know about that.”

You bit your bottom lip.

_She knew._

A shiver ran down your spine.

“Listen.” You swallowed. “I have to go.”

*******

As soon as you ended the transmission and shut down your comm-relay, you left the Hospital. This time you did not care about your clothes or your own sanity — which you knew was lacking right now.

The fact that you did not sleep coupled with the discovery of his… — you had no idea what to call it, _honesty_ , perhaps? — coupled with the truthfulness of his words made your heart beat faster and not only because you were running towards the Cave.

You had to get to him. You had to talk to him. You had to… _see_ _him_. You were not sure you could trust your words right now. Seeing his face would suffice. However, more than the imperious need to see him, you needed to know.

By now, he already knew if he had a hand in what was taking place in Dantooine and other territories in the outer-rim.

_Only someone of the highest ranks would know about that._

If he still had most of his accesses to the First Order database, then he knew why they did it — and it was getting increasingly difficult not to understand their reasons; aliens ate humans and humans hated aliens. Only a racist organization, product of that dictatorship called Empire, could unleash such a hateful disease upon the distant and forgotten planets — and how to possibly end it.

Because there must be an antidote.

_There has to be._

If you were to find him, D-Five would give you his coordinates. The protocol droid would know where he was. You just had to make him talk.

You ran as fast as your tired limbs would carry you. As fast as your own heartrate would allow you to. Part of you was grateful for his harsh training, without it, you doubted you would be able to stand on your legs right now. Getting almost no sleep for the last few days helped very little.

It was with some relief — great relief, actually — that as your feet brought you to a stop in front of the Cave, and you spotted not only the General, but his partner — was she really a partner or they were only analyzing each other and waiting for the best moment to end not only their partnership but the other’s life? — as well. Behind them, there was a _Personal Petite Yacht_ you have not seen in years.

“You look like shit, hon.”

Pursing your lips into a thin line, you breathed deeply through your nose. You almost — you knew the General would scowl if you did that — placed your hands on your knees to support yourself. Even if it was a short distance between the Hospital and the Cave, you felt like you had run a marathon.

“Aurra.”

The General straightened his shoulders and shut off his electronic cigarette. You shifted your attention to him. You were not the only one who looked absolutely terrible. If you slept little, the General got close to no sleep whatsoever.

His cheekbones seemed even sharper now. Besides not resting properly, you could say he was not eating as well.

If the situation was any different, you could say you were worried about him. Right now, all you could feel was a crushing guilty and extreme relief — he was alive and he had not gone back to the First Order. And it sufficed.

He had no time to say anything — and you doubted he would —, for she hit her walking stick on the rocky ground, attracting your attention.

“You arrived just in time, dear.”

_In time for what?_

“Go ahead.” She pointed at the ship behind her. “You two shall leave for Canto Bight.”

The General outstretched his hand for you to take. Even if you hesitated ­­­— to depart for Cantonica right now made no sense whatsoever, not with the medical crisis in the outer rim territories ­—, you placed your fingers upon his. He immediately pulled you into his embrace.

You bit your bottom lip —­ not risking a glance at Aurra; you had no idea if she still believed you were his weakness and honestly you did not want to let her know there were problems in paradise ­— and moved one of your hands over his shoulder.   

“Do you trust me?” he asked. His voice was no more than a whisper in your ear.

_Do I?_

Part of you wanted to say you did. If you learned something today, it was that he was far from the lying monster you believed him to be ­— and you had lied to him as well! You were sure of one thing only — if you wanted to survive, it you wanted to find the cure for that damned disease, you had to trust him.     

“Do I have any other choice?”

You expected silence. Instead, you felt the tip of his nose running over the sensible skin of your neck as he breathed in your scent.

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I think that's all!
> 
> I am very busy right now and I don't have much to say in this second AN. I just wanted to let you know how thankful I am for the amazing support this story continues to get. You guys have no idea how amazing it feels to read all of your comments, your theories and opinions. 
> 
> For those interested in the disease in Dantooine, I'll talk more about the political reasons for that in the following chapters. For now, remains the mystery. But Hux did help the Resistance and lied to Phasma... I want to know your opinions... Is Hux playing everyone or... Is he guilty or innocent? 
> 
> And I'm not much of a fan of Phasma. I think she has great potential, but it's quite not used. And I think it happens with almost every new character. However, as I was talking to a friend of mine and theorizing about Kylo Ren x Anakin. The First Order x Empire and the parallels between the ST and the PT/OT, a few things became much clearer and interesting for me. Let's see what Episode IX will bring us xD
> 
> I think that's all. Hope you like this chapter.
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl and stay tuned for updates.


	17. Give & Take

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings! xD
> 
> I hope you're doing well. This month has been a little difficult for me, I barely get any free time and between working my ass off, working on my master's and writing fanfiction, you guess what comes last, right?
> 
> Anyways, before I get into this big, fancy event (it's gonna be boring, I'm only going for the food and the drinks!) I decided to show up with the 17th installment of Lie to Me.
> 
> As I'm in a hurry, I don't have much time to say more, so I'd like to say I love you all. Thank you for everything, you guys have NO idea how much important your support is to me. Really. You guys motivate me A LOT! For all of you who reviewed my last chapter, I love you <3 <3 <3 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to anonymous and cherryart. Your reviews gave me A LOT of ideas through your reviews.

THE YACHT WAS MORE LUXURIOUS THAN YOU EXPECTED.

By now, you should have learned that expectations meant nothing in the company of the General — or even Aurra Sing.

They were always surpassed.

In fact, they were reduced to ashes.

As the ship left Dantooine and all the colors — destruction, desolation as well — were left behind, the navy-blue mantle became the only sight to focus your attention on. With a sigh, you rose from your seat and left the cockpit, distancing yourself from the General.

He did not question you; he did not prevent you from leaving. He seemed far too concentrated on piloting the yacht and entering the hyperspace to pay you any attention.

You headed towards the private cabin, set on removing your clothes and getting at least a bit comfortable. However, his reply back in the Cave would not leave you alone.

_No._

This meager word was carved in the back of your mind. It was a simple answer, really, but you doubted anyone could say so much with such a plain response.

Part of you expected him to say _yes_ , that you always had a choice — but that was _kriffing_ rubbish. Brutal as it was, at least you knew where you stood with him.

But did you really?

Another sigh came to life in your lips as you took off your coat. You were so tired, all you could think right now was about getting some sleep. The bed in the private cabin was the most inviting sight you have seen in the last few days, but you knew that without a bath you would be unable to relax properly.

Perhaps a tea could help.

Shrugging off of your clothes, you put on a robe and headed to the pantry in search of some _vincha_ tea. To your dismay, all you could find was _tarine_ tea. Even though you thought it tasted rather foul, in the absence of another type, you set yourself on making it. Hopefully, it would help you get some sleep later.

You were so concentrated on your task, you did not notice him approaching. He stopped when he was a few inches from you, arms folded at his chest, as he watched you intently. Ignoring his presence, you brought the mug to your lips, fighting a grimace.

“It tastes better with sweet-sand cookies,” he spoke, removing a strand of hair from your face. He twirled it around his finger.

Even if you did not flinch away from his touch, the rigidness that took over your body was not missed by him. He let his hand fall to his side and flexed his fingers slowly.

“So I heard.” You bit your bottom lip. There was so much you wanted to say, so much to talk — discuss — about and yet, you found yourself unable to start a conversation. Perhaps you could start by mentioning the confectionery, “Do we…”

There was no need for you to complete your sentence. He understood your words and nodded his head. On the next cupboard door, you found a pot with the so prized sweet-sand cookies.

As you brought one to your mouth — and it indeed improved that horrible flavor, if not much, at least a little —, he filled a mug for himself. The confectionery melted in your tongue, forcing you to close your eyes to better savor it.   

Silence filled the space, and for a moment, you could almost say it was companionable — like the old days. You never wished to have any powers before, but if you could, you would choose to go back in time. Just a few weeks and you would…

_What?_

It was not like you would tell him yourself. You had been through that before and what did you do?

You brought another cookie to your mouth, savoring it, savoring the silence. It is, till he decided to break it with a statement that made you snap your eyes open and stare at him with pursed lips, “You left the Cave.”

There was no denying it — and actually, he did not phrase it as a question — and that’s why there was no answer from your part. Mimicking him, you decided to keep your words to yourself.

What else did he expect? It was not like you could sit idly by while alien — people, those were people, _your_ _people_ — died. However, judging by his blank face, it did not seem to bother him in the last. It felt as if he expected it. He merely brought the mug back to his lips; his impossibly blue eyes set on you.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

There was no denying how annoyed you felt. He seemed to always know what to expect from you, but it never went the same way for you. It was impossible to know where you stood with him. You never knew where his thoughts and actions would lead him.

With him it was all a mystery.

He was like a volcano. _Unpredictable._ Although it may seem forever dormant, one could never know when it was about to erupt.

It drove you even madder with yourself. It felt as if you were in a masquerade without a mask on. While he always kept himself hidden, in the shadows, you were on the spotlight. _Naked._ All displayed for him.

He poured some more tea for himself and you could not help but notice that unlike _vincha_ tea — that he drank only on occasion and mainly when he was recovering from the assault that almost took his life — he seemed to enjoy _tarine_ tea quite a lot.

You shook such thoughts away and wetted your bottom lip. There were several questions in your mind and little time. You could not lose any minute uncovering personal details and his preferences right now. Although you had never travelled to Canto Bight before, you knew it was closer to Dantooine than you would like — than the time you would need to clear all of your doubts. It is, if that was a possible outcome in this whole situation.  

With him you never knew…    

“What did you uncover about the disease?”

_Yes._

That was the right question. Finding out more about the Alien Flu should be your primary concern — that and the reason why you were going to Cantonica —, not his likes and dislikes.

But there was something else that you needed to know — _you had to_. You could not go on with your life with him — if you still had a future together, you were no longer sure; his clouded decisions always left you wondering — without knowing the truth, “Did you spread the disease?”

Instead of the expected silence, his answer came quickly — and unaltered —, setting your heart in a frenzy pace, “Possibly.”

You shook your head, disappointment written all over your face. Right now, you did not know which tasted fouler, if the _tarine_ tea — as you stopped chewing the confectionery, there was only that horrible flavor of the tea alone dominating your taste buds — or the brutal honesty of his words.   

Seemingly unaffected by your expression, he placed the mug on the sideboard and leaned against it. He folded his arms at his chest and you could not help but notice how loose his clothes looked like.

Did he lose weight? A few pounds, perhaps? 

If he did not starve himself in the last four days, he certainly ate less than you did. It was clear in how slimmer his face looked. If not for the ginger beard gracing his features, you bet his already prominent cheeks would look even sharper.

You itched to touch him — to hide your head in his chest and hold him close; to inhale his rich scent —, but you buried such wish — _need even_ — in your heart. This necessity — _this want_ — was no more than a weakness and as such it must be conquered. The General was the one to teach you that. Right now, you should concentrate on the task at hand.

“You haven’t recovered your memories,” you risked. Both realization and dismay sunk on you. Part of you expected he would have the answer by now; that he would have — who knows? — the answer for everything.

He did not.

Silence.

His lack of answer was more than enough. Despite your earlier accusation and the fact that he had lied about pretty much everything else, you knew he had really lost his memories. If not all of them, at least some.

He could be good at lying — he was far better than you at this game; he beat you to it — but he could not lie about everything.

_Right?_

You tried to reason with yourself — with your own gnawing, growing doubts. If he plotted the disease and he knew it, why would be hide it from you? It was not like you had something he wanted — it is, apart from yourself, _your feelings,_ but you were sure the General would not stop so low. He did not strike as someone who would jeopardize his plans because of something as trivial as sex. And it was not like you could bring his life to an end because you knew the truth. He knew it. He knew your weaknesses and he knew he was one of them.

_He knew you loved him._

And you knew he would have no problems using it — your feelings for him — against you.

_Using you._

That’s why you knew he was telling the truth this time. 

Setting your own mug aside, you approached him. He was so tall you had to crane your neck to watch his expression — or lack thereof, he was always so unreadable to you, so… _unreachable._ He did not move from his stance, allowing you to enter his personal space. You mimicked him, folding your arms at your chest.

You swallowed, readying yourself for your next question, “Then how did you know we weren’t married?”

He snorted.

The sound — the gesture in itself — coupled with his next words felt like a slap to your face. Instead of cornered, he was clearly amused with your attempt of yanking something out of him. He took a step closer to you, his shiny, black boots closer to your slippers.     

“You are a bad liar.”

He had said it before, but the context was vastly different.

_Or was it?_

You inhaled deeply, trying to calm your racing heart. It was all gone to waste when he leaned over you and ran the tip of his nose on your neck. You breathed hard, sinking your nails in your arms in order to keep your hands away from him. Your heart galloped inside your chest as he placed his mouth against your ear.     

“I would know if you were mine,” he whispered, nuzzling the side of your face slowly. Carefully. _Almost lovingly_. His next words would be forever carved in your mind, “I could forget everything and everyone but you.”

His sweet, alluring confession was enough to set your heart in a frenzy pace. He removed a strand of hair from your face and with his gloved thumb he caressed your bottom lip. You could taste the leather and it was enough to make your breath grow thin. His left hand held you by the neck, bringing you closer to him as moved his own lips from your ear and skimmed your face slowly, _briefly._

A dreamy sigh left you when he kissed the corner of your mouth. If the situation was any different, you would beg him to take you to the private cabin and make sweet love to you till the tender hours of the morning. You would like nothing else in the galaxy. However, a he inched closer, you placed your fingers upon his lips, stopping him for good.

“No.”

Begrudgingly, he removed his lips — his hands — from you and straightened up. Even if a lot had changed between you, his respect for you — for your boundaries — remained.

You sighed in relief and took two steps away from him. Invading his personal space was not a wise decision, you realized it now. But it was too late, you have made a mess of yourself and your thoughts. And instead of cornering him, you were the one cornered — not exactly by him, but by your pulsating, latent desire, _love_ , for him.

In a matter of minutes, you had almost forgotten everything and melted against him. _Almost._

If the situation was any different, you bet he would be proud of you for conquering and defeating your weakness — it is, if your weakness was not he himself. Perhaps, if he judged the situation coldly — and part of you bet he did —, he already was, even if he would not voice it out loud.

You shook such thoughts away and shifted your attention back to him. You looked up at him, at his intense, bluish eyes and asked, “If you knew, why did you never oppose to it?” You swallowed. He had in his hands the power to crush you in its entirety. You would not be able to take it if he said he was using you. “Why did you decide to play along?”

This time, he took his time to reply.

He even raised his hand to touch you, but he stopped himself midway to your face. He clenched it into a fist and slowly, very slowly, let it fall to his side.

You had no idea if that was your imagination, but the General seemed conflicted. Something in how his usually clear irises seemed much darker after your question left you wondering. With furrowed brows, you followed him to the private cabin, where he started peeling off his coat and untucked his black shirt from his trousers.

A sigh left your mouth. You knew that there would be no answer from him. Not now at least. You could only hope he would, some of these days.

“Our ETA?”

“Less than five hours.” He removed his shirt and undershirt, immediately pulling another over his head. “That should be enough time for you to rest.”

You nodded.

It was.

But it did not mean you wanted.

Or that you could.

There were so many questions buzzing in your mind you doubted you would be able to even close your eyes.

He walked past you, headed outside the cabin where he sat at one of the comfortable, big seats and closed his eyes. You leaned against the threshold, watching him intensely.

“I will answer your questions concerning the mission later,” he informed without even bothering to look at you. “For now, you should sleep.”

*******

However briefly and restless, you managed to nap for a few minutes. Yet, you did not get more than one hour straight; when you thought you would finally sleep more, your comm-relay started buzzing and you jerked awake.

You could feel a strong headache approaching. Rubbing your temples, you slowly sat on the bed and took in the darkened space. There was very little you could see, so you let your mind wander to your last interaction with the General.

His actions — his words — made little sense to you.

_Kriffing hell._

Shaking your head, you reached for you comm-relay. There was a message from Senator Organa — you did not know where she was, but the bad transmission ruined most of her message greatly. All you could understand was that she would send someone of the Resistance to meet _The Healer_ and that she thought you should leave Dantooine as soon as possible.

_If only she knew…_

The first part of her message made you furrow your brows.

You thought the man known as _Healer_ was long dead now. And yet, if Senator Organa thought it was worth looking for him, it could only mean no one in other planets knew what to make of the disease as well. It could only mean that outside Dantooine the situation was probably worse.

Making your way out of the cabin, you looked for the General, he certainly not only knew about _The Healer’s_ whereabouts, but he probably knew how to get him to talk; it was well known that _The Healer,_ in spite of his talents for modifying genetical codes and diseases — some even thought his abilities surpassed those of the _Kaminoans_ —, he only worked every once in a while now and never for compassion. Like several people you have met before, he sought power, and right now, the most powerful organization in the Galaxy was the First Order.

He was still where you last saw him. Even though his eyes were closed, you knew — by his timed breathing and the rigidness of his body — that he was not sleeping.

Sitting in front of him, you placed both legs on the leather seat and hugged them. You rested your chin over your knees and stared at him. It took him a while to open his eyes and stare at you, but when he did, you could not help the words leaving your mouth, “What do you know about _The Healer?”_

He wetted his lips.

You thought that maybe he would take his time choosing his words, but his answer — a question, actually — came rather quickly, “Do you have any idea why we are going to Canto Bight?”

It was your turn to wet your lips.

“To do Aurra’s foul bidding?”

You scrunched your nose in annoyance. The very thought of him working with Aurra filled you with both anger and disappointment. Even though most of times you blamed yourself for Aquilla’s death, you could not help but think that if you had not met Aurra he would still be alive — even if the two of you never met. Part of you thought that because of her — because of another silly and stupid attitude of yours —, the General’s life was at stake as well.

He thought he knew how to play this game, but he was a fool if he thought he could deceive Aurra for too long — or fool her at all.

If he felt offended at your words — you thought that he certainly hated to be considered Aurra’s henchman, or anyone’s for that matter —, he did not let it show. Instead, he answered you, and it stunned you into silence for a good few minutes to come, “To find the cure.”

Your mouth hung open in the shape of an O, but no sound came out. You blinked your eyes a few times, then pursed your lips and bit the insides of your cheeks.

_How?_

_Why?_

And mainly…

_Why would Aurra…?_

Those were all the questions on the verge of leaving your lips, but none came to life. He seemed to know all your doubts — what he did not know about you? — and he lost no time to say, “Aurra Sing also wants to bring an end to the disease.”

His answer left you even more confused. It took you a few seconds to come up with a reply, “For some foul reasons, I bet.” There was no hiding the bitter intonation that took over your voice.

This time, he decided to keep silent.  

You wanted to ask what was going on between him and Aurra, but you knew it would probably go unanswered. And you were tired of playing this game.

“You know what the cure is?”

So far, all you had found was a small substance that could ease the symptoms and delay the impeding death, but not a cure per say. You could only hope he knew what he was doing.

“Armitage?”

The General did not voice anything, nor he made any effort to answer your question. You pursed your lips, aware that he hated small talk and stating the obvious.

He did not know.

“Assuming there’s a cure…” You bit your bottom lip. “How are we supposed to get it?”

He rose from his seat. From your shrunken position, he seemed much taller than he was. You sat straight and swallowed, ready for his reply.

“We won’t.” That... made your heart ache. “You will.”

_What…_

_…in the kriffing hell?_

There was no time for you to voice your surprise, for he extended his hand for you to take. Slowly and very unsure of yourself — of his statement and actions —, you placed your fingers upon his and let him lift you to your feet.

“Canto Bight is where—

“Casinos, debauchery, wealthy and immoral people all go.”

He did not seem to like your interruption, but he did not comment on that. He nodded, nonetheless.

“… _The Healer_ lives nowadays,” he corrected you, not unkindly.

“He’s greedy.” You shook your head. The tales about those who dealt with _the_ _healer_ always ended on a bad note. While he had the power — the brains — to find a cure for every disease across the galaxy — and to create some as well —, he did not help anyone for free. And his price was not exactly what people would call fair. “He won’t help us.” You let your hand slide from his, but he tightened his hold around wrist. “ _Me._ He won’t help A— What is in this for Aurra anyways? Does she want to be the galaxy’s next savior?”

“Not a _he_.”

His aloofness annoyed you.

“Does it matter?” You shook your head one again. You could not understand why he was so calm. You got it. He did not care about the disease — maybe he even helped spreading it across the Outer Rim territories —, you knew that, but you were talking about someone who could but would not help you. “She… Whatever she wants, I-we—

“Lyyr Varless seeks power.”

_Yes._

You knew it.

Everyone knew it.

And it was not like someone living in Cantonica could seek anything else. They were after either power or credits. You had neither.

“Therein lies the problem.”

He snorted.

“You may not realize as of yet, but you, my Empress...” he said, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles softly, “have what it takes to convince her to give you the cure.”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” you commented, shaking your head. A shiver ran down your spine at his endearment; his soft lips were still pressed to your skin. “I don’t— Then, slowly, realization sunk into you. “My father—

He nodded, letting go of your wrist and stepping away. For a good few minutes, you stood where you were, taking in all he said.

Speechless.

You were stunned into silence.

Thinking about your father — and his horrible past working for the Empire —, made you wonder if the General knew what he just said, about you _having what it takes to convince the healer._ You doubted. Even though it was said _the_ _healer_ had no sides in this War, you were not sure she would pick you — a distant, distorted memory of your father; of his glorious and ruthless past — over the First Order.

Coming out of your shocked state —­ and judging from the noises you heard, you could bet he was making more _tarine_ tea for himself —, you followed him into the pantry. He was leaning against the cupboard, the mug against his lips.

“Why are you helping me? Helping Dantooine?”

As usual, there was no answer from his part. He finished his tea and set his impossibly blue eyes on you.

“What’s is in this for you?”

This time, he replied, his smooth voice ­and the way in which he spoke those words had you gasping.

“You should have killed me.”

The mere thought… _It was unbearable._

Of course the irony of the situation was not lost on you. You thought that yourself a thousand times, but to hear it coming from his lips, as if it was mostly natural — as if his life was not worthy anything at all and that was just… expected! ­— shocked you beyond imagination.

He walked to you in confident steps, lifting your chin and forcing you to stare ate him.

“What’s in this for me, you ask?”

You swallowed and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, holding his hand against your face. He eased his thumb over your quivering bottom lip. This time, your tongue brushed against skin and not leather glove.

His eyes darkened at the brief contact.

The General leaned over you, brushing your lips together. This time, you did not push him away. You merely closed your eyes and gave in, your heart beating wildly against your ribcages.

You placed both hands on his shoulders, holding him closer. Chest to chest, you could feel the rapid beating of his own heart as he sneaked his fingers through your hair and angled your head better, not to kiss you, but to force you to stare at him.

“Let’s make a deal, my Empress,” he started; blue eyes unreadable. You could not help but shiver, recalling the first time he came up with such proposal. That did not end well. If you were not mistaken, the only difference was that he called you Mrs. Hux back then and not… _His Empress._ The endearment did not bring a good taste to your lips – in fact, the very idea filled you with anxiety. “You answer some of my questions and I tell you what’s in this for me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... That's all for today?
> 
> I gotta say this chapter was almost 6k, but I decided to cut the last big scene and leave it for next chapter as I thought it was a bit... disjointed and off. I know I'm adding my layers to this fic and it seems like I'm only adding more mysteries and never solving them, but we've reached the middle of this fic and the events in Canto Bight will make up for the climax of the story and then the end. 
> 
> Everything will be tied up in Canto Bight, so hold on a little longer and you'll be rewarded (I think I'm gonna pull this right!) at least I hope so. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I did enjoy writing it xD And please, don't forget to tell me what you think. And follow me on my tumblr nymphl to more updates xD
> 
> PS: I downloaded a game called Choices on my Iphone because I was bored and didn't know what to make of this chapter, and I must say I'm surprised. I didn't think the stories would have so many... possibilities. Just like with reader x character fics, my prejudice got in the middle. Anyways, playing one of the games, I had many ideas for my upcoming Vampire!Hux fic.
> 
> Well, see you!


	18. Black & White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, darlings! xD
> 
> Sorry it took me so long to come up with an update. Almost two months and I was so used to come back here with an update every week. I feel awful, really. And then I promised time after time that there would be an update and well... There wasn't. Long story short, because if you read chapter 1 of Bloodbound, I've already mentioned the reasons for my lateness there. At first, I couldn't write given how nervous I was because of the General Elections here in Brazil and then, my 14 year old husky died. It's been 22 days without him and I still miss him deeply.
> 
> Personal problems aside, whenever I sat to write down this story, I didn't know what to make of it. Then, today I could finally wrap my head around it and write down chapter 18 - Black and White. I doubt it is what you expect, but it will do for what I have in mind for the upcoming chapters. Next chapter I'll show things on Hux's perspective, so I think it'll all get a bit clearer. Let's see xD 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who bookmarked and left kudos in this story. I can't believe we're are 261 kudos, 30 bookmarks and 331 reviews. You guys are amazing! And to each of you who commented last chapter (Lanisita, cherryart, Spacearistocrats and anonymous) my biggest thanks. I love you guys xD. Thanks to everyone who left me messages, asks and interacted with me on tumblr. Your support means more than you know. 
> 
> I had no time whatsoever to reply to your reviews in Bloodbound, but rest assured I will. 
> 
> Prisionerodelcielo, SYAZIAHVG, (and all the other anons who left me asks on tumblr) I hope you like this chapter!  
> Happy reading!

BEFORE YOU COULD OPEN YOUR MOUTH TO AGREE WITH HIM — AND WHAT A MADNESS IT WOULD BE! — HE DISENTANHGLED HIS FINGERS FROM YOUR HAIR AND STEPPED AWAY FROM YOU, VANISHING INSIDE THE COCKPIT.

A sigh of utter relief left you when you realized you were alone with your thoughts. You rubbed both of your arms, trying to find some comfort in the fact that you had no time whatsoever to agree with that proposition of his.

It was not the first time he came up with such a deal and you doubted it would be the last — or that it you would be able to escape unscathed. Honestly, he was doing what he did best — playing people, _playing you_ —, biding his time, getting whatever he wanted, just to leave you…

_Hanging._

Waiting for his answers.

After all, the General only did what he wanted. It would not be different this time, right?

You shook your head and retreated to the private cabin. If he returned to the cockpit, it could only mean the time was up and you were about to enter Cantonica’s surface. You had to be ready — if not emotionally, at least you had to keep up appearances — to face whatever trials expected you to get your hands on the Cure.

_If you managed it._

Even though he said you _had what takes to get the cure_ you were not so sure you believed him. To get the Cure — to convince Lyyr Varless — you would have to go back to your roots — to your past — and you were not sure you were willing to do that.

If you could actually do that.

_Yet…_

If you wanted the Cure — if you wanted people in Dantooine and other planets in the Outer Rim to have a chance —, you would have to.

With a sigh, you let your robe fall to the floor and immediately pulled over your head fresh clothes. You just hoped that before you went anywhere, you could take a long and relaxing bath.

If anything, you really ought to think things through before you gave him your final answer. You could only hope to receive the answers you were seeking.

*******

As soon as you landed on the private platform — even though you had never been to Cantonica or its Capital before, you were sure the primary spaceport would not be as empty as this one — you wondered the need for such secrecy. Now, as you watched him talking to a woman you recognized as a _Nabooian_ — given her distinctive accent when she pronounced the consonants —, you understood.

No one knew the General was alive. 

_Yet._

And it seemed he intended to keep it as such.

You wondered for how long.

Biting your bottom lip, you lost yourself to your growing doubts and concerns, till he stopped in front of you; his shiny boots almost brushing your own shoes. You looked up and accepted the hand he offered you.

Next thing you knew, both of you were in a _hoversled_ , in the company of the same woman of before. You shot a questioning look at him, unable to stop thinking if she knew who they were and if she was going to act on it.

 _“Soon, Freykaa,”_ he whispered in Ryl, his thumb tracing soothing patterns over the skin of your hand. Half a second later, he brought it to his lips, bestowing a kiss upon your knuckles.

Your body went rigid with his gesture — the need to pull your hand away was great —, however, you quickly reigned in your feelings. He did present you as his wife and both of you as newlyweds to your guide — or whatever that woman was.

She did not seem interested in you in the least. On the contrary, she kept her eyes on the path ahead, guiding you through the busy city.

Forcing yourself to relax, you flashed him a poor excuse of a smile. The last thing you expected was to have your relationship questioned by a stranger. When he let your hand fall, you did not disentangle your fingers from his, tightening your hold around him. If he was surprised with your gesture — your ready acceptance of the situation — he did not let show. Instead, he cast a satisfied glance your way before he fixed his attentive eyes on the city around you.

Even if you were under the impression it took you hours to get to the most luxurious hotel in all of Cantonica — and certainly in the whole Outer Rim, and you wondered if not in the entire Galaxy —, it did not take more than ten minutes.

Honestly, you wondered why the whole secrecy when you were to be hosted in the most expensive place the Capital had to offer. Yet, your questions were delayed once more as you both were directed to a secluded lift.

If the man recognized him, he did not let it show. His eyes were downcast as he used his credentials to put the lift into motion.

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited for the lift to stop at one of the last floors. At this point, you were no longer surprised the servant was guiding you to probably the best rooms in the whole Hotel — _screw that_! he undoubtedly guided you to the best suite.

Then, it dawned on you.

He was not trying to keep a semblance of secrecy. He was merely putting his associates to use and all the power he had at play — which made sense. _Partially._ He was — once — a General of the First Order, if there was something he did have, it was credit and power and people willing to do his bidding.

However…  

“And then…?” you spoke as soon as the two of you were left alone in your room.

Instead of giving you an answer — and you were growing tired of how predictable it was getting; you asked, he never responded —, he walked around the suite, surveying it with critical eye.

Unable to wait, you followed him, arms folded at your chest as you waited for his explanation. You could not help but open your mouth in surprise at how much gold you found in both in the anteroom and the bedroom. Every furniture was made of the richest wood, details were either in gold or in other valuable gemstones. So much luxury made you feel small and somewhat angry. It bordered on indecent how a few people were able to afford such extravagances while others — the majority — starved in the four corners of the galaxy.

“I’m waiting.” You drew in a sharp breath. You did not know if it was the lack of proper sleep or if you finally reached your limit, but it irked you how he never deigned to give you an answer.

The mere thought of your father — someone that taught you so much about helping others, about compassion — basking in such… _debauchery_ irked you to no end.

He raised two fingers, his index and middle finger, silencing you for good. He came to a halt in front of a large _holoposter._ He removed it from the cream-colored walls and within seconds, he disconnected a small device you recognized as a camera. You were not expecting it, but he came up with an explanation, “I installed it… A few years ago.”

You even opened your mouth to comment something, but you closed it shortly after, not really sure you could say. It was clear he either did not have the access to it anymore or that he did not want for your interactions to be recorded. You thought the first option was more likely, since the camera did not seem to reach as far as to capture anything in the bedroom. In any case, for it to record your intimacy, you would have to rekindle it first — which seemed very unlikely, given his tight-lip policy.

Not to mention, you did not want to give in while the two of you were in such bad terms. That, or you were afraid of being used by him. He knew how to play you and different from you, he knew how to use sex as a weapon.

No.

You were definitely not giving in while this situation lasted.  

“Can we just talk?”

Your slightly raised and annoyed voice forced him to look at you; bluish eyes narrowed. He put the device over the sideboard — not caring about placing the _holoposter_ back to its place — and approached you.

With a deep sigh, you straightened your back, already expecting him to touch you. He did not. He stood tall, hands entwined backwards in what you called his General posture.

“We will.” He turned on his heels, leaving you agape. “But not now.”

Without looking at you, he started unbuttoning his black coat and his shirt. You watched in begrudging silence as he stood only in his trousers; his back — so full of scars — bare to your appreciation.

“I’m having a shower,” he announced, looking at you over his shoulder. “You’re welcome to join me, if you wish.”

*******

Given the opulence of Canto Bight Hotel, you expected the General would take you to dine in an equally luxurious restaurant. And even if you could not say the place was bellow expectations, it was certainly different from what you had in mind.

It was… You did quite not know what to make of it. It certainly matched Canto Bight’s usual aura. It was shady, there were gamblers all around the place, it had alcoholic drinks — and you could not remember the last time you had had something as good as Bespin Port — and well-dressed people.

Ever since you left the suite, he barely spoke to you. He kept his usual distance — his stoic face was a sight you were getting quite used by now —, as he guided you through the Casino; his hand was on the small of your back, his fingers barely brushing your nude skin — and you were not sure when was the last time you wore such a revealing dress.

_If you ever…_

Once in a while, he would whisper something in your ear. A few minutes ago — as you entered the secluded, dim-lighted room in which only the wealthiest played a card game — he asked if you had any idea where you were and why you were there.

With your patience almost gone now, you placed your hand on his arm and leaned to whisper back in his ear, “How could I know if you tell me nothing?”

If he felt offended at your response, he did not let it show. _As always._ And if you just squinted your eyes, you would have seen the corners of his lips lift in the shadow of a smirk. He slid his hand over your arm, till he reached your elbow and brought your body closer to his. You held your breath as the fingers of his other hand brushed the small of your back in the gentlest of the touches.

“You see everything in black and white.”

You furrowed your brows.

Whatever he was trying to say, you simply… _did not get it._

He placed a strand of your hair behind your ear, his lips quite but not exactly brushing the sensitive skin of your earlobe. Your hand immediately moved to his chest, so you could keep yourself straight.

Part of you expected not to find pulse there — a beating heart. But there it was, beating rhythmically against his chest. He put one of his hands over yours, sliding your fingers together as he whispered, “Look around.” His warm breath caressed your face. “Tell me what you see.”

You bit your bottom lip. Even if you wanted to tell him you were tired of this game — of his games — you started mentioning everything you saw, _expensive clothes, rich people, gambling, fuzzy champagne and a shady place, quite not like Canto Bight Casino._

“Why did you bring me here?” You furrowed your brows. “I thought we were supposed to meet the _Healer_ there.”

Instead of giving you the response you sought, his smirk widened, “And what are they playing?”

You bit your bottom lip once again.

How you hated him.

“ _Sabacc_.”

It took you a moment to understand where he was getting at. With a sigh, you disentangled yourself from him — and he quickly let you go — and looked around. He followed you with his eyes. Bluish orbs intensely set on you as he drank his Green Champagne.

You were partially averse to gambling — the irony was not lost on you; what you did when you decided to save him was not different than what those people were doing right now —, but you understood the basic premise of _Sabacc_. It was a game of skill and chance — you were not sure which of the two stood out. No matter how skilled one was at it, the unpredictable ways played a great part in it.

This place… This planet, Cantonica, this city, Canto Bight… and this small and so less opulent casino than Canto Bight Casino was no different than a game of _Sabacc_. To play the extremely popular game, one should have the necessary skills and to relay on chance. But to win, the player should play his opponents by pretending not to have such skills — or, in some cases, expanding the view of his skillfulness to such a point his opponents would believe he could never be beaten.

If the _Healer_ had to be found somewhere, it would not be in Canto Bight Casino where everyone expected her to be. And she started by fooling others in regard to her genre. You — and you thought that probably the whole galaxy — thought of the _Healer_ as a _he_. A man. If the she had to be at some place, it would be right here and right now.

If Lyyr Varless was to choose a place where to find her clients, you could not think of anywhere else. And she knew that different from Canto Bight Casino — where people only went to show off —, here she could find the powerful ones she sought.

And one could not say the General was anything but powerful.

He knew what he was doing.

He knew the game he was playing.

He knew which people he should convince.

And how to convince them.

After a few rounds, you returned to him. He offered you a new glass of Green Champagne, “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, _my Empress,_ ” he spoke after you drank it all in one big gulp.

The pet name did not go unnoticed by you, but you decided not to comment on that. Whenever he called you that, you could not help but shiver — there was something so very primal about it that made your knees go weak, and yet, a gnawing sensation took over your heart whenever you heard that title. You bit your bottom lip, there was no time to think about it right now.

You even tried to reach for another glass, as a waiter passed by you — and you were not shocked to find real people serving the guests —, but he held your wrist. He brought you to another space in the compound. A soft melody flowed in the entire Ballroom, where a few couples danced.

He pulled you to the center; one hand in the small of your back and the other lightly wrapped around yours as he guided you in the steps of a classic _Coruscanti Waltz._

It took you a while to open your mouth, but when you did, you felt the truth leaving you unhurriedly, “I was afraid you would kill me.” It came out as a whisper that seemed even lower as you could not bring yourself to look at his face — out of fear or concern, for _Coruscanti Waltz_ was certainly not your cup of tea, you were not sure.

As an answer, a snort.

_He kriffing snorted._

Typical.

_So kriffing typical._

You should have expected that. He thought that you were ridiculous. And, in a way, he was right. _He was dying._ He was as good as dead. How could he kill you when… when he was barely alive himself?

“I guess…” You wetted your lips. You dared to look at him. Your heart was on the verge of escaping you through your mouth. “I wanted to keep you away from the First Order.”

His hold on your hand tightened. And if not for being an awesome dancer — and you could not help but wonder if there was something, _anything,_ he did that was not perfect; except telling the truth, it is — you were certain you would not be able to keep up with the crescendo in the melody.

You breathed deeply and even afraid of his real answer — would he give you an honest one? —, now that you had started talking — and that felt like removing a heavy burden off your shoulders — you did not want to stop.

That old saying did not leave your mind. _You reap what you sow._ It was a dangerous game this one you were playing, but just like _Sabacc_ you had no other choice than to give _chance_ a go.

The reason why he brought you here — to Canto Bight, to this current place — was no to look for the Cure, it was to test your ability to trust chance, _to trust him._ Even when gave you little — to none at all — reason to. And the General would only open his _kriffing_ mouth when — and only then — he had your complete trust. You knew you could only have it when you showed your nakedness.

Sex and feelings did not do the trick, you realized.

Only the truth would.

But that was — just like _Sabacc_ — a very risky, tricky game. And here you were, gambling for your life, for your love… _for the man you loved._ If the truth did not drive him apart, it would undoubtedly bring you two closer.  

And there was only one way to find out.

By playing it.

You shook your head. It was now or never. Drawing in a deep breath, you started “I thought that if you were not with them, the galaxy would be a better place.” You searched his eyes, they were intensely focused on you as he brought you both to a stop with the ending of this dance. Before long, he was guiding you in another Waltz. “I wanted to tell you the truth, but at first I was afraid you would kill me and then…” Your next words were no more than a whisper, “Then I fell in love with you.”

Silence.

There was no answer from his part.

_As usual._

Whenever you talked about your feelings — how you felt about him —, he distanced himself. It felt as if… As if he did not think you were telling the truth.

“And I was afraid you would leave me for good if you knew I lied. That’s why I…” You let your sentence hanging in the air; your heart beat so quickly it seemed on the verge of exploding inside your chest. You craned your neck to look at him. Your breath was cut short at what you saw, his eyes were cold. Glassy. _Emotionless._ “You don’t believe me.”

His reply came quicker than you expected. And by now you should know better than to have any expectations. 

“You overestimate the First Order.”

“It’s not—

He twirled you, silencing you for good with his gesture. For the next steps, you would have your back pressed to his chest. He leaned over, brushing his lips against your ear. You drew in a sharp breath as he whispered, “And you underestimate me.”

When you were back to his arms facing him, he brought you a little closer than the dance etiquette allowed, and a few guests gasped and murmured amongst themselves — not that you could pay attention to anyone when he next spoke; his fresh breath mixing with yours, “And that, _my Empress,_ is a fatal mistake.”  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I think that's all for today xD  
> I hope you have enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> I know it doesn't clarify much, but I wanted to make this chapter all about Reader's realization of where they stand. If she wants him to trust her, she'll have to trust him first. She's the one who started lying after all, right? Hux isn't the most reliable people around, but she has no one else except for him. As for him, he knows that he has no one else except for her. If she won't trust him... then all is lost. He knows he can't trust the Resistance, nor the First Order... so...
> 
> As for the title... Every chapter I try to play a little with opposites and interweave them with the plot. This time it's a bit different. Black and White is not only about Reader's perspective of things. It's about her perspective of their relationship as well. She has been in that loop of "If I tell him, then all is lost" and things is not always what they seem. But I personally think it's more about Hux's personal take on things before he was betrayed. He knows now that it's not only Resistance x First Order, things are a bit more complex than this, having Reader in his life only made it more obvious. To sum up, this chapter is not about opposite, is about what you find in the middle of what seem opposite. 
> 
> Now, I think I've said enough... tell me, if you want, of course, what you think!  
> Do you think next chapter Hux will finally reveal what's going on his mind. What about the Healer? Is she there the whole time? Was she watching their interaction? Does Hux really know everything? 
> 
> Thank you for sticking up with me. It really, really, really means a lot.  
> I love you all!
> 
> See you.
> 
> PS: I really, really, really (did I say really?) have to concentrate on my masters. I have but a month to write my first draft, and so far I have only ten pages (I'm not so quick to write academic texts as I am write fanfic, right?) written. So you probably won't see any updates from me till December 20. If possible (if I manage to write several good pages in a row to show to my advisor), I'll post chapter 19 before. 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl and stay tuned for updates!


	19. Victory & Defeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, darlings!
> 
> Happy belated Merry Christmas (for those who celebrate Christmas). I hope you have had a wonderful day.  
> It took me a while to come back, I know, but I was very busy with my Masters, but I managed to get 50 pages written. I don't even want to re-read that, I am sure I'll think it was total rubbish, even though my adviser said otherwise. 
> 
> That said, I hope you didn't forget this story xD I'm here to update the 19th and last chapter of 2018. Don't freak out, this isn't the end of this story. There'll be more in 2019! It's called Victory and Defeat and it took me quite a while to write because I was so caught up with my Masters that when I got my hands on the draft I had for this chapter I was like... OMG, What was doing with this story??? I didn't remember the plot, the idea of upcoming chapters or whatever I was supposed to do with Hux and Reader's relationship xDDDD
> 
> Now, onto my thanks: cherryart, Dinadette, Spacearistocrats, IllegalCerebral, anonymous and Ragnarsson, you guys rock! Thank you for your reviews. To all those in tumblr, you guys have no idea how much your words encourage me to keep going with this story. Really. Thank you for all the hits, kudos and bookmarks. I can't ever repay you for being so kind to me. 
> 
> I know I didn't have time to review all of your reviews, and I am REALLY sorry. I'll do that this weekend. Like I said, I've been busy with my Masters, then there was work and only now I got my well deserved rest. I'll be staying at home till January 7, but so far (It's been a week since my vacation started), I haven't got much time to even sleep T.T And honestly, I do believe that's better (not better, but well...) to leave you waiting for an answer than answer in any way. You took your time to review, so I should take my time to reply to your reviews properly, right? It's the least you all deserve for being so kind. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to IllegalCerebral. Hope you like it xD

“YOU SHOULD TREAD CAREFULLY.”

That was all he said and that was all he would say. Ever since Armitage Hux left the suite, he engaged in a senseless conversation with Aurra Sing. In spite of their alliance — for the lack of better term — and the fact he showed the upper hand, she still thought herself above him.

If not for the fact he needed her — and would continue to do so in the near future —, he would get rid of their alliance once and for all. Alas, it seemed fate was not on his side this time around.

He did not let himself think of how the news of her dismissal would have sit with _her._ He doubted — no, he knew — she would welcome it. Instead, he grimly had to listen to her senseless demands, wondering if she had finally lost it. Not for the first time, he thought that beneath the façade of a calculating — even if reckless in some occasions —bounty hunter, lay a demented, cachectic old lady.

It was quite clear she had seen better days.    

“Oh dear.” She laughed; the sound a perfect mockery. “There’s no need to get all worked up. It’s just…” She took her time before continuing, “a friendly reminder.”

Armitage Hux could have reminded her he could do just fine without any advice, but he decided to keep his words to himself. As it is, he had already spent more than enough time with Aurra Sing; shared more than he deemed appropriate.

The woman was vicious.

And her demands were more than he was willing to meet.

One could say Armitage Hux excelled at politics, but none could deny it felt tiring and annoying. It required exchanging meaningless pleasantries, something he absolutely hated. At least, with Aurra Sing, he did not need to do anything remotely close to it.

“Will that be all?” he asked, ready to put an end to their less-than-friendly talk — which would pass as bantering for an outsider —; his hand hovering over the button to shut down the connection.

She smiled.

And it was a sight the General was not happy to see unfold before his very eyes; something he interpreted as a momentarily _yes_. He pressed his lips together as she leaned on her walking stick and turned around. Before her bleary hologram could turn into black nothingness, she looked at him over her shoulder, the tiniest of smirks curving the commissure of her mouth.    

“Ah, before I forget…” She _tsk-ed_ twice, a mischievous glint in her greenish eyes. If a few minutes before he thought her demented, now he was not so sure of it anymore. Even if she got out of hand with her demands, Aurra Sing still knew how to hold the end of any bargain that picked her interest; no wonder she survived Tobias Beckett when the whole galaxy believed she met her end at his hands. “I hope you like what I have in store for you, General.”

She shook her head.

“No. I am _sure…”_ He hated how much emphasis she put on such a word. The smile stretched into something ugly. _Sinister._ “So very sure you will like it.”

And before he could say anything else, one of her stupid _minions_ shut down the connection. He could do nothing for a few seconds; too stunned to even think of her last words. Staring at the comm in his hands, he felt his blood run cold in his veins. It was not every day that someone of his standing felt it — such a bad omen — but Armitage Hux could not help but feel like he would not like whatever she had coming for him.

Right now, all he could think of was how much he hated surprises.   

*******

As soon as the doors opened with a _whoosh,_ you sat straight on the loveseat and brought the wineglass to your mouth — to cover your nervousness or to feel at least a bit more confidence, you did not know. If he was any surprised by the fact you were still up, he chose not to comment.

_Right._

He was not really a man who enjoyed stating the obvious…

…which would make this conversation harder than it should be.

Honestly, if he just could open up, and talk about it, actually acknowledge the obvious — your feelings for him —, you two would not be in this predicament. Well, maybe _you_ would be, after all, you lied to him for quite a long time — _kriffing_ hell, you both did! — and the General did not strike as exactly a forgiving person.

Point is, it would be a lot harder than you wanted it to be.

Than it should be.

_Kriffing hell!_

Supposedly, the two of you were a couple — both consenting adults in a relationship; either by romantic feelings or mutual interests it did not matter right now, it did not change the situation — and _supposedly_ couples talked.

They. _Kriffing._ Talked.

_To. Each. Other._

Even if you fought it, the comparison rose to your mind. It would not be so difficult to have an honest conversation with Aquilla. No matter how dire the situation, he would never turn you down; if there was something to be discussed, your late husband always thought there was no time like the present to solve any misunderstandings between the two of you.

You poured more of the _Bespin Port_ for you and filled a glass for him. You gestured for him to sit down, letting out a sigh when it did not happen.   

“We have to talk.”

He stopped on his tracks and stared at you, eyes narrowed. If anything, you knew by now when he did not like something you said or did and it was obvious the General hated when you demanded something from him. You wondered if he acted like this because he felt above everyone else — he was a General; you doubted he received orders from many people, if any at all — or if it was just with you, because he felt entitled to demand everything from you — _body, mind and soul_ — whilst giving nothing — or almost nothing — in return. 

By now, you have learned that politics was the art of getting a lot without sacrificing much. And obviously he excelled at it — look at how much he got you involved while giving barely anything of himself into this relationship.  

_However…_

It was just too much.

You had to either get something or it would not do.

There was no point in insisting on a relationship that he was not even remotely interested. Once again, you could not help but wonder what you meant to him. So far, it seemed that your value was the same of a wild _bantha_ in a room.

The mere thought made your mouth grow dry. You bit your bottom lip, waiting for his response, but he ignored you. _Completely._

He turned on his heels, and entered the bedroom, leaving you all alone in the anteroom. Stupefied, it took you a moment to stand on your shaky legs and follow him. All the while, you could not help but wonder if that was really the best course of action.

Maybe…

 _Just maybe…_ You should let him reach out for you.   

Yet, you found yourself staring at his back as he removed his jacket. Bracing yourself, you even opened your mouth, but he beat you to it, “And what do you want to talk about?” he said; the sound of his voice betrayed nothing, and you could not see his face. Yet, given his stance, you knew he was tense. He squared his shoulders as he worked on his vest, and his head was held high.

You walked to him; around him, to get a closer look at his face. If you were not sure of his tenseness before, now you were sure of it. He moved as if he would tighten his hands into fists, but he merely flexed his fingers, letting his arm fall loosely to his side. The squareness of his shoulders was even more pronounced now; and the line of his lips was a hard one; his intense blue eyes were narrowed.

Carefully — as if not to startle him —, you moved your hand to the buttons of his vest, waiting for his silent permission. The briefest of nods had you itching to touch him. You undid the buttons slowly, one by one and then helped him remove the article of clothing.

Before he could step away, your fingers brushed his face. As he did not move away, you took the opportunity to caress the hard planes of his face — he was a naturally slender man, but given his weight loss, he seemed even thinner —, till your thumb stopped at his lips. In no time his eyes softened; instead, his stare was one of a caged animal, waiting for a chance to either scape or pounce on you.

And with him, you never knew.

“Us… I want to talk about us.”

He removed your hand from his face and took two steps away. You bit your bottom lip, a _I see_ almost leaving your mouth.  

“What are you afraid of, Armitage?” You reached out for his hand, but stopped yourself when you realized he would most likely free himself. The next words to leave you were no more than a whisper, “Is it loving someone or… being loved?”

If you ever hoped for an answer, you were now sure you would never hear it. Not for this question and at least not in the form of a straightforward answer. If you were to ever broach such topic, you would have to find another way to do so.

A sigh left you.

You were tired.

This whole situation was just… _weary._

Time-consuming and straining.

You reached for him once again and this time you did not shy away from the possibility of him breaking free. You held his wrist, forcing him to look at you. His intense blue eyes totally focused on you.

“Is that so difficult to believe that someone may have feelings for you?” When he did not respond — as you should have expected —, you pressed further, “that I may love you?”

Naturally, he yanked his arm from your grasp. His eyes steely and his tone all business as he spoke, “Contact, General Organa. I have something to tell her regarding the First Order.”

*******

For the next half hour — maybe a full hour; you lost track of how many minutes you spent talking to General Organa — you relied all information he fed you.

Initially, you were against talking to the former Senator. You did not need to be a genius to know he was stalling. He knew you wanted to talk, and he was dodging the topic. Then, as he reported what was about to happen concerning both the First Order and the Syndicate, their trade routes and how to put one against the other, you could not help but stare at him agape.

You knew — it was so very clear — he held a grudge against the organization he worked so long for and was betrayed by, but he was working with Aurra. They were… _partners_ — you were so very sure you could not say they were friends.

Did Armitage Hux ever have a friend? Somehow, you doubted. He did not strike as a man who held any person close to his heart — he did not trust anyone. He came across as someone who had allies, not friends. Someone who could turn against allies at any given moment.   

_Who could turn against you at any minute._

You bit your bottom lip and stared at him as you finished your report — it was obvious she would ask about the Healer, something you yourself did not understand till now, even after you had a few hours to give it some thought — and saw General Organa’s image flicker in and out, before it completely disappeared. You shut off your _comm-relay_.

Already aware that saying _we have got to talk_ would not do the trick, you decided to cut to the chase, “Why would you betray Aurra Sing?”

The General seemed to appreciate your straightforwardness, for he finally looked at you — as in he did not cast a glance at you over his shoulder. The intensity of his blue orbs made your blood run faster in your veins, but it could not be helped. Breathing deeply, you braced yourself for what you expected to be an equally straight reply.

Instead, you were left with an answer that made you shiver — either that, or his nonchalant tone, you did not know, “Why wouldn’t I?”

If he would do that to an ally, someone who had something of his interest — something to offer, something he wanted —, why wouldn’t he do the same to you? He seemed to know where your thoughts were headed, for he narrowed his eyes. Yet, no comforting words left his lips.

“Aurra Sing thinks she can manipulate me,” he offered; blue eyes still focused on you. If he wanted to hear any comment coming from you, he did not let it show.

However, you could not help the words leaving your mouth, “Is that what you think I was doing to you? Trying to manipulate you?”

There was a moment of silence as he left the bedroom and walked to the anteroom. You stared agape as you thought he would leave you alone — talking to yourself —, but you did not move to follow him, fighting every urge in your bones to chase him down and force him into a decent and adult conversation. He returned shortly after, holding the _Bespin Port_ in one hand and in the other two crystal chalices.

When he handed a generously filled chalice, you shook your head. If he minded, he did not let it show, as he made himself comfortable on the deep-forest green ottoman and brought the wine to his lips.

“Was that what you did?” His answer — question, _it was a question_ — startled you. Sitting straight on the bed, you braced one of the pillows and bit your bottom lip. “Do you think you succeeded in manipulating me?”

_Kriffs!_

What kind of question was that?

What kind of answer did he expect?

What in the _kriffing_ hell was he doing?

You shook your head. He was trying to confuse you. It was what he ever did. You asked a question; his comeback was another question — a lot more puzzling; something that left you bewildered — and in the end you did not get anything from him.

As always you were left in the dark and he… well… he came out of the situation _unscathed._

Gripping the fabric of your dress, you breathed deeply through your nose. It was quite clear you did not manage to manipulate him, but he did. He was trying to do that right now and you were falling for it like the fool you were.

“It’s obvious I didn’t,” you replied, looking at him square in the face. For the briefest of seconds — you could very well be imagining it —, you were sure the General was taken aback with your answer. “If I did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

Part of you expected to be regarded with judging eyes. Instead, you could say he was proud of you. It was quickly confirmed when he next spoke, “You catch on faster than you give yourself credit for.”

There was a moment of silence between you two, as you too were catch off guard by his remark. It was obvious he was playing you — and when he wasn’t? — but to hear praising words leaving his lips was more than you could hope for. Honestly, you felt as if you should feel… _upset_ after such realization. And yet, you knew it to be a waste of time. The General would not stop his mind games just because of some conflicting emotions on your part. He had been doing exactly that all along, he would not stop now.

Feeling a lot bolder now, you decided to further press the topic.

“And why would you give information regarding both of them to General Organa?” You shook your head; that was the wrong question to ask. “No… Are you feeding Aurra information regarding the Resistance? Are you playing the Resistance as well?”

There was another question you wanted — no, you needed — to ask. _Yet…_ You were too afraid to even think about it, let alone give it life in your lips. You gulped and this time you left the bed and walked to him, desperate for at least a drop of alcohol to touch your tongue. It would not do to have this conversation when you were sober.

However, before you could reach for the chalice, the General held your wrist between his fingers.

You shuddered.

Eyes locked with his, you tried to free yourself. He did not allow you to, however. His hold, even though not strong to the point of hurting you, was enough to give you some trouble to get rid of.  

“Go ahead,” he whispered, caressing the inside of your wrist. The sensation of his fingers on your skin — even covered with a glove — set your heart on a frenzy beat. “I know you were meaning to ask more.”

You opened your mouth, but shut it shortly after. He brought your hand to his lips, bestowing the knuckles with a brief kiss. You could not help but gasp when he kissed the inside of your wrist lightly.

Yes.

There was a lot you wanted to ask, but right now as he got physical with you, you could not help but want to remark on how he had no qualms about touching you when he was talking about business, but it was curious how it suddenly changed when the topic was his feelings — or your feelings for him.

Real, altruistic feelings.

Not the kind of feelings he could manipulate and use for whatever foul means he had in mind. Lust, anger, disappointment, uncertainty… all of these were feelings he had no problems dealing with, but it all changed so quickly when it was about _love._

Then, you realized it.

“You think that because your father never loved you, no one ever will.”

He did not let go of your hand this time. Instead, he pressed another kiss to it to your skin. When he moved away, you could see the commissure of his lips tilting slightly upwards as he stared at you.

This time, his answer came quicker than you expected — if you expected anything at all. He let go of your arm rose to his feet. In his standing position, he towered over you.

“As you seem to know so much about me, _My Empress,”_ he made sure to put emphasis to such word, his smirk growing by the second as your shivered, “you probably already know the answer to the question you did not dare to ask.”     

You bit your bottom lip as he held your chin, directing your attention towards him. However, even when he was in a room full of other people, it was difficult not to stare at him. After all, the General was a man who commanded every attention — surely he ought to know that.

His gloved thumb ran over your lip, coaxing it gently away from your teeth. Your breath became a bit rarefied as he caressed the line of your jaw and then moved his fingers to your neck… stopping right over your windpipe, pressing it lightly, as he usually did in the past.

_Kriffs!_

It felt as if a lifetime had gone by since he last touched you like that, since he last prevented you from biting your bottom slip… since… _Ever since he held you close._

“And pray tell…” he started, whispering on your ear, “What are your thoughts on this, _my Empress_?”

“I-I… I…” You shut your mouth and once again you found yourself biting your bottom lip. Truth is, you did not know what to think. Suddenly, you were shaking. If out of cold or fear, you were not sure. “You want to rule the galaxy…?”

It was supposed to be a statement, but it came more like a question.  

He brought your hand to his lips, and this time he took his time kissing your knuckles. Even though the gesture was supposed to put you at ease, to make you feel calmer, you could only feel yourself getting more anxious.

You tried to dismiss the sinking feeling in your belly. You tried to remind yourself that you got that far already; that no matter how crooked his answers may seem, you managed to get something from him. You got him to talk. And when the collocutor was someone such as Armitage Hux, that was something huge.

That was something to feel proud of.

It was a victory.

However, his answer — in the form of yet another question — made you quickly dismiss such thought, “Would you rule it with me?”

         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... that's all!  
> I have no idea if this chapter is good or not. I've just finished it and I've been working on it for days (guess I've lost my touch xD) and I'm so tired right now, I don't even know what this chapter is about anymore HAHAHAHAHA
> 
> I really, really promise I'll come back with your replies before the next update, which, hopefully will be next Friday, January 4th. That said, I wish you an excellent New Year party! Anyways, here's a short reply to your reviews:
> 
> Cherryart: Já te respondi, mas to respondendo de novo, pq te amo! 
> 
> Dinadette: I hope you don't kill me because I took too much to update again xD
> 
> Spacearistocrats: Please, DON'T die! Are you dead? 
> 
> IllegalCerebral: I don't know how to thank you for your reviews. I can only hope you like how I played with their emotions in this chapter xD
> 
> Anonymous: Don't worry about the length of your reviews. I love each one of them. And I'm honored to have you as my reader! <3
> 
> Ragnarsson: You're a darling! I hope you like this chapter and my portrayal of Hux. 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr nymphl to see the edits I make for this and other stories. If possible, I'll come back still this year with an update for either ITGB or BB. Stay tuned!
> 
> Love you all!  
> And, if possible, I'd love to hear from you! Tell me what you think xD


	20. Easy & Hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, darlings xD
> 
> After one month (more than one, actually xD) here I am to update Lie to Me. Like I said when I updated Bloodbound, I can't offer many apologies for I know you are growing tired of it. Rest assured that the lack of updates is not intentional. And that I really miss writing and updating this story regularly. 
> 
> That said... OH MY! I can't believe we've reached chapter 20 of this story in such a short time. I am a very lazy and slow author. So I'm surprised I could write so much for Lie to Me and I really have only you to thank. So... to all of you who followed me till this point, my sincerest thank you. You have no idea how much each comment, each hit, kudo and bookmark motivates me. It truly makes me want to keep writing, to keep improving to give you a better story with each chapter (don't know if I managed to though xD) 
> 
> And, my thanks to all of you who reviewed last chapter. IllegalCerebral, Lanisita, Dinadette, Anonymous, cherryart, bitch_hips (I'm so glad you're back!) you guys are amazing and you have no idea how much I love to hear (in this case read xD) from you!
> 
> I love you all! 
> 
> Now, my notes are getting too big... And this chapter is already HUGE (Before I edited, it was 6k, but I left almost 1k for next chapter in order to keep the suspense in the end of the chapter). It'll suffice to say spent the entire day on his chapter, and after rewriting some scenes... So there'll be mistakes that I'll do my best to fix as soon as possible. And that I could FINALLY write the so awaited scene I've been talking about for ages.
> 
> I hope you like it. Happy reading! xD
> 
> PS: I hope you don't think the angst is too much in this chapter.

“NO.”

The words just spilled from your mouth in a firm, determined tone. You surprised even yourself, because you did not think you would say _no_ in such a resolute manner.

You turned on your heels, unable to look at his face anymore. Contrary to your expectations — and you actually did not know what to expect from him anymore; he always managed to spin things around and make it all favorable to himself —, he did not look surprised. If felt as if he… _knew_ what your answer would be.

As if anything different than your confused state would not do.

He knew you…

…better than you did.

And he knew how to use it — use you — to his favor.  

“I-I can’t.”

_…would you rule it with me?_

To rule the Galaxy…

_…would you rule it with me?_

With him…

_…would you?_

No.

That was the wrong question.

_Could you?_

The answer was clear was the night sky outside — so many hours had gone by, you were sure the sun would rise soon — and he had been a fool to even cogitate a positive answer.

You could not.

Part of you thought there would be a minute of silence or so — you wanted it. _Needed it._ A minute of silence would give you some time to get together your scattered thoughts; to strengthen your beliefs. Instead, his voice filled the space, sounding… — not exactly loud… — _clear._ He was right behind you, quite but not touching. The proximity, the warmth of his body so close to yours, made you shiver. You hugged yourself as you cast a glance at him over your shoulder, quite but not meeting his impossibly blue eyes as he repeated his question,

“You can’t or you don’t want to, (Y/N)?”

As his fingers slithered over the extension of your arm, disentangling them and reaching for your hand, you could not help but jerk away. Cradling your limb, you walked to the anteroom. If you dared to look up, you would have seen the look in his eyes — was it hurt? _Disappointment?_ — but you simply not could bring yourself to stare at him — least you wanted to find mirrored in his bluish orbs something other than disgust, but instead understanding. Or worse yet… _yearning._

You shook your head.

You desperately needed that minute of silence.

…to think things through.

…to confront your feelings.  

_…to… shake off the need to go back to him._

“I-I don’t want to… I can’t.” As the words left your mouth, you grew even more hesitant. When you next spoke, there were simply whispers that you were sure not even you could know for sure if you imagined or truthfully said aloud, “I don’t know.”

*******

You needed to clear your head.

You had to.

Being around him would simply not do.

You left the _Canto Casino Hotel,_ looking for somewhere to unwind — the expensive places where he took you before, at the risk of meeting him again, was out of question. It was a good start that he did not follow you and instead let you go.

There was much to be said about the General — he was undoubtedly a vicious man and weren’t all involved in politics? Your own late husband was not that much different when it came to his ideologies, however mild they were —, but he always respected your choices, no matter how much in disagreement he seemed to be with them.

You walked around the first few blocks, distancing yourself from the luxurious Hotel, looking for a place to stay for a few minutes, or at least until the sunrise. Yet… the bars around you were either too expensive or too loud — and you already had to deal with your own thoughts. You needed a calmer setting, but not too calm… and…

_Something alcoholic._

You would love a bottle of _Tihaar_ right now.

After walking through the _Canto Bight Piazza,_ you took a moment to look at your surroundings. Different from Dantooine, Cantonica was a lively planet — or at least one that had not been ravaged by Civil Wars at every corner, without any rest —, and Canto Bight was one of the most vibrant cities you have ever seen. It was truly astonishing to see the _Holoposters_ all over the city and the faces of different people flashing before your eyes. There were illustrious figures of all fields — artistes, politicians, _criminals_.

It was impossible not to wonder if Senator Organa’s face ever graced the _Holoposters_. Or if General Hux’s did too.

With the First Order on his heels — with someone bent on killing him and erasing his legacy —, you could not help but think if he either starred as a criminal on the run or as a distinctive General.

_No._

You shook your head.

You did not leave the Hotel to think about him — even thought thinking about you and how you felt about his proposal undoubtedly led to thinking about him. Your feet brought you to a small and somehow decrepit bar in a far and much dimmer-lighted corner of the city.

In old neon lights it read, _Klang’s Place._ The music was not loud, but not silent enough to make it possible to hear the conversation going on at the table next to yours. It was a cheap place, true, and yet the necessary reprieve you needed to gather your thoughts.

All species seemed to meet in such small bar. And it took you less than a minute to understand why it was so quiet… if compared to the Casino the General took you earlier. Instead of gambling — even though you could see someone here and there playing _Sabaac_ —, people here discussed far… darker and sinister topics. It was not only a reprieve for you, but a converging point for Syndicates’s thugs as well. You recognized a man from the old and powerful _Cularin_ Syndicate. Aurra always spoke highly of him and how he well he handled his business.

A shiver ran down your spine at the thought of what Aurra Sing considered a good model for running one’s business.  

You slid in the stool, taking your seat at the counter — away from anyone that could possibly recognize you. The barman, a sullen _Lokath_ slid a glass with _crystalmead_ immediately. You furrowed your brows, not sure what to make of his action.

“Someone already paid it for you.”

For a moment, you did not want to think of the implications of someone whose identity you had no clue whatsoever buying you a drink. Shrugging, you smelled the drink and brought the glass to your mouth shortly after. It was not _Tihaar_ but it would do for now.

You cast a look at your barman, he had a cloth over his left shoulder and was concentrated on pouring another glass for you. When he offered the amber drink once again, you could not help but take a closer look at him — _his species._ As far as you knew, almost the entire _Lokath_ species had been wiped out of the galaxy thousands of years ago. A few survived and later, when the _Kryto Virus_ was unleashed…

“We survived.” His words dragged you out of your thoughts. You blinked twice and looked at him. “Now we’ve to watch a similar virus strike the Galaxy.”

You nodded.

But your thoughts were somewhere.

Did he…

Did he know the Healer?

Did he have any contact with Lyyr Varless?

Did he know where she was?

Could he… _Could he get you to her?_

Before you could open your mouth to ask anything, someone slid in the stool next to yours. You knew who it was even before you cast a look at her.

“Hello, darling.”

*******

Your body tensed at the thought of sharing the same space with Aurra Sing. She was the last person you wanted to talk to right now. The last person you wanted to see.

And yet, here she was, holding a bottle of _Tihaar_ in her hands and looking at you through those still thick eyelashes of hers as she made quick work of pouring the liquid into waiting cups for the two of you.

“You didn’t have to pay me a drink,” you said, sliding a small pebble of _aurodium_ towards her.

She snorted.

“As if I would spend precious _aurodium_ buying you a drink.” She pushed the glass with _Tihaar_ in your direction and gestured for you to try it.

If not Aurra then… _who?_

You pursed your lips, but took the glass, nonetheless. There was a moment of silence as the burning sensation took over your entire body. You closed your eyes and everything — even if for a few seconds — went quiet. The music around you stopped, as did the conversations. The thoughts in your head stilled too.

Breathing deeply through your nose, you waited for her to pour a bit more of _Tihaar_ for you, drink it in a go, before your lids finally fluttered open — unfortunately not by your own choice.

She was staring at you. Intense green eyes gleaming with something akin to the usual mockery. Understanding, perhaps? You did not know for sure. You did know want to know. All Aurra Sing ever did to you was to tear open fresh wounds and throw salt in it. You doubted it would be any different this time.

“It’s hard being with someone you can’t trust.”

You felt the corner of your eyes burning with the need to cry. This time out of frustration. Of course she knew. Of course she would know. Of course she would be there to mock you.

Biting your lower lip, you swallowed. You would not give her any more reasons to pester you. She knew you wanted to trust the General. _Desperately._ You wanted to move on. _You needed to move on._ The fact she would use such words to start a conversation could only mean she knew about it and she did not intend on letting you forget.

“Why are you really here, Aurra?” You reached for the bottle and filled her empty glass once again. For an old lady, she could hold her liquor better than any other person you had ever met. You could have asked if it was _to mock you,_ but besides being obvious, you did not need to give her any more reasons to hurt you.  

Not to mention that she would not leave Dantooine without a good reason. And mocking you was definitely not on her top priorities.

“What would I do in a bar full of Syndicate members, girl?” she replied with a question; her green eyes sparking with anger. Her tone no more than an annoyed whisper.

You bit your bottom lip, casting a glance around you. It seemed every single soul in the cheap bar was staring back at you. Some of the looks were judging, others were of appraisal. Most of them were genuinely curious. 

The answer was obvious.

She would not leave Dantooine unless it meant business. Serious, real, _important_ business. _However…_ It had been years since Aurra Sing last thought of expansion. Why would she do it now?

Another obvious answer.

She did not.

Amirtage Hux did.

She was only doing his bidding.

_To do Aurra’s foul bidding?_

You had asked in your way to Canto Bight. _Kriffs!_ How wrong you were.

“Surprised?”

You thought about nodding. But gave up at the last second. She did not need to know you were at loss with the General’s plans.

_It’s hard being with someone you can’t trust._

You wanted to trust him.

You needed to.

What’s the point of staying — _loving_ — someone you could not trust? That you expected to stab you at every second? To betray you at every given chance?

Aurra was right. She was _kriffing_ right!

_It’s hard being with someone you can’t trust._

And yet…

You brought the bottle to your mouth and drank it all at once. The burning sensation returned and with it the inability to think and to feel for a few good minutes. The buzz in the back of your head forced your eyes shut and you could not be gladder for the silence that came along with it.

It took you a couple of minutes to start hearing her chuckle, which became louder as your senses slowly came back to normal.

“He’s a cunning one.” She clicked her tongue as the barman approached the two of you with two glasses with _crystalmead._ She smelled it with a scowl of disgust in her face, but brought it to her lips, nonetheless, “I’ve to give him that.”

You looked at the amber liquid placed in front of you with weary eyes. You wanted to continue drinking, but you knew your limits and you knew you had reached them. It did not take a genius to know you were drunk — Aurra knew that too, or so you thought given her small nod of appreciation.

“He plots and schemes, but he doesn’t get his hands dirty.” She smirked. You did not know if she was proud of him or angry at him. You see, Aurra has always been a woman who never believed in letting others do her own job, no matter how dire the situation. “Not really… Just like what he did with his own father.”

The mention of his progenitor had your heart accelerating.

_Brendol Hux._

The very name made you shudder. You could not help remembering how he called — more like shouted — such name in his feverish state. You knew he had killed his father and you did not judge him one bit — even someone like you, so against taking someone else’s life, even you knew that the _kriffing_ bastard had it coming. However, you did not know the specifics. You did not want to.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

You wetted your bottom lip. Part of you wanted to act like the General and stay silent. You knew, however, she would not let you alone unless you replied, “It is because I am not.”

She dismissed your answer with another chuckle. She gestured towards your mead and you nodded. Even though not a fan of somewhat sweet drinks, she downed it in one big gulp, while you watched with hooded eyes.

It was almost morning and you were tired — exhausted really, physically and emotionally. Perhaps you should return to the _Canto Casino Hotel_. Perhaps you should get some deserved sleep. It is, if you wanted to keep looking for the Healer, you would have to at least have some energy left in you and right now you felt like you did not.

_Nevertheless…_

The thought of seeing his face, of confronting his proposal and your thoughts regarding it…

You did not want to think about it right now. The moral implications of a positive answer were too much to bear right now.

_Would you rule it with me?_

Honestly, you did not know why you were surprised. You knew this would happen. You knew him — you knew he was a General, you knew he worked for the First Order —; you knew his nature and you knew… _you just knew_ — and how could you not? — that no man reached such position within any organization without at least a bit of ambition. And the General had plenty.

And yet…

To have ambitions and to aspire to be Emperor… _To rule the galaxy._ Those were two entirely different things.

_My Empress…_

You could almost hear his voice, right now. Sounding in your head so clearly, as if he had his lips pressed to your ear. It sent a shiver down your spine.

The sound of Aurra clicking her tongue made you snap out of it. She was shaking her head, a look of disappointment plastered on her old features, “You haven’t changed one bit, girl.”

Part of you wanted to ask for explanations, part of you did not want to hear her voice. Right now, all you wanted was to feel sorry for yourself. To keep thinking that _it_ — his ambitions and his quest for power — could have been avoided if you had just…

You shook your head.

You had been through that.

You had been through the self-blame.

You had been through the shame.

And then, you had been through the denial.

And even though you knew the answer, you could not help but wonder if it would not be different if you had just… told him the truth since the beginning.

You rose to your feet. Your legs were a bit shaky, but you knew you would manage to get back to the hotel and the safety of your room in one piece. A bit of fresh air would do you wonders.

However, before you could go far, you saw the front door opening to reveal a tall, somber man with ginger hair slicked back to perfect and heard Aurra’s voice echoing in the bar.

“You keep clinging to that pathetic life of yours when deep down you know you aren’t made for it.”

*******

As soon as the meaning of her words hit you, you could no longer stand straight on your legs. They gave away, and if not for having two arms holding you in place, you would fall on your ass. There was no need to look up to know the identity of your rescuer.

“You’re drunk,” he whispered in your ear.

_My Empress…_

Although he did not say the words, they were carved in your mind. And now that you could not dismiss it any longer as a meaningless pet name, it was even harder to forget how many times he addressed you as such.

And that he had meant it every single time.

Even when he said in the throes of passion, your hands entwined together as you both sought sweet release.

The very thought made your eyes widen. You placed both hands on his shoulders, trying to put some distance between you. But he merely tightened his hold around your waist, keeping you impossibly close. You searched for his eyes, certain you would find harsh judgment there, but he was not even looking at you.

His attention was focused on Aurra Sing. She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not her babysitter.” 

Hux did not give her any answer as he positioned one of his arms behind your knees and hoisted you up in his arms. If you thought that everyone was looking at you before, you were sure of it now. Heat crept to your cheeks, staining your entire face.

You wanted to tell him to let go of you, but you were not so much keen on causing a scene in a bar full of people — full of Syndicate thugs. Instead, you hid your face in his chest, letting him take you away from the bar.

He was right.

You were _slightly_ drunk.

The remembrance of his words, combined with the way his lips brushed the sensible skin of your ear, and how it all made you think about the pet name — _not so pet name_ _anymore_ _or ever…_ —, made you squirm in his hold.

“Let me go.” You pushed against his chest, unable to even make him flinch. He stopped but did not move to release you. “Let me go!”

You were halfway to a _speeder bike_ very similar to the one he had back in Dantooine when he put you on the ground. You took a few seconds to properly stand your legs by yourself, and when you did, you moved away from his hold.

“My answer hasn’t changed,” you said, stepping forward.

As expected, there was silence for a moment. He seemed to be considering your words very carefully.  

“We will have this conversation when you’re sober.”

You wanted to yell at him — to tell you were not _that_ drunk —, but instead you bit your bottom lip; the first tears — of frustration, pain, fatigue — slid down your face.

“My answer won’t change.”  You tried to distance yourself further from him. You stumbled on your feet, but he was right behind you, hand wrapped your wrist as he pulled you back to his arms.

“I know,” he replied softly. His breath caressed your ear. He slithered his hands over yours, till your fingers entwined together. “I didn’t expect anything else.”

You squeezed his hand slightly.

“I can’t be what you want me to be.”

There was silence for a moment. The only indication you had that he had actually heard you was the slight quickening of his breath; his hold around you loosened for a brief second.

“We have had an Empire before, Armitage.” You breathed deeply, the simple action seemed to give you clarity. “It didn’t work.”

He ran his nose over the column of your neck, his lips placing a small kiss to your shoulder. You shivered in his embrace.

“It will this time.”

In a quick movement, he forced you to stare at him. You closed your eyes for a brief second; everything spun around you. When you reopened them, his bluish orbs were set on you. There, you found something you did not think you would ever find looking at him.

_The truth._

He really meant it.

He really bought that idea.

He was in no way playing you.

_Not this time._

Not very sure of yourself, you reached for his face, running your thumb down his sharp cheeks and then his lips. He brought your palm for a chaste kiss.  

“What makes you so sure it will?”

He did not take long to reply. His answer was quick and made your breath get stuck in your throat. You looked at him once again as you searched for the catch, only to find nothing.

Armitage Hux was being truthful.

“I have you.”

You bit your lip.

Your head was spinning. You wanted so bad to believe what he said, but part of you — the sane, the rational, the survivor who had gone through more Civil Wars than anyone should be allowed in their lives — knew what he wanted.

_Power._

Armitage Hux loved power.

He craved it.

More than he craved you.

More than he would ever be able to love you.

Did he?

Did he love you to begin with?

You were sure of your feelings for him, but apart from a few glimpses here and there, you could not say that he more than cared for you. Perhaps he cared deeply for you… but to care for and to love someone were two things entirely different.

_I have you…_

As if you were meant for something as great as politics. The intricacy of the game… It simply did not suit you. It never would.

_I have you…_

And yet, he said it with such certainty… 

Aurra’s words came back to you with full force. You could not help but ask, “Do you also think I am clinging to a life I am not made for?”

There was no answer from his part. Instead, he traced his thumb over your bottom lip, caressing it softly. His intense blue eyes focused on yours.  

“That’s not what you wanted to ask,” he pointed out. “Perhaps you should ask yourself how you truly feel about it.”

You closed your eyes.

You did not want to think about it.

You did not want to face the truth.

He slid his fingers through your hair, angling your head so you had no choice but to look at him. You gasped as his fingers slowly brushed against your windpipe.

“How did you feel when you let go of societal boundaries and were just yourself?”

You did not know what he was talking about.

His words made simply no sense.

You were surely not bound to societal expectations. You have never been. If you were, you would have married again as the _Dantooinian_ rigid society demanded of young widowers. You would have found yourself a husband and provided him children, instead of staying your days and nights at a Hospital, caring for those who did not have anyone to care for them.   

Then the truth hit you.

_You were._

You thought you were not, but the sad truth is that you were. Not in the most obvious ways, but another. You rarely did what you truly wanted and apart from saving lives, you hardly ever had the courage to act on your impulses.

There were a few times you dared in your life. When you put that blaster down and did not kill Aquilla — a known enemy —, when you left Aurra for good and became a Syndulla and lastly when you saved the General and fell in love with him.  

“How did you feel?” He applied a little pressure to your throat, making you gasp and quickly answer him.

“…Alive.”

Your entire body shuddered.

_And thank you for running away too… That was thrilling._

You said when the two of you ran away from Aurra’s henchmen and ended up in the Cave, where he made sweet love to you for a good part of the night.

_And the cave is… It’s lovely…_

There in that place… It was where you had your heart broken too.

_I mean… I’ve never felt this happy._

If you knew that this single sentence would bring so much heartache, you would have kept your words to yourself. You would have…

He tugged at your hair, forcing you to shift your attention back to him.  

“I don’t want you looking at the past and thinking what you could’ve done differently. I want you to think about the times you felt—

_“Alive. I felt alive!”_

You had never felt more alive in your entire life than when you broke the rules with him — for him. However, you could not let that become a distraction. You were simply not born for this life. To become an Empress… It went against everything you believed — everything your own father, your late husband believed.   

“I am no politician.”

He snorted.

It was clear he disagreed with you. If not completely, at least partly.

You wanted to keep coming with excuses for him to not be interested in you. Truth is… He wanted you and you did not know how to deal with it — partly because you wanted him back and because you feared how far he would go to have you.   

_…Back then, I already knew you would be mine…_

_…I have always wanted you…_

_…I would have you no matter what…_

You swallowed.

The fierceness of his desire for you never scared you so much before.

“Would you force me to be with you?”

He let go of you immediately; his hand lingering time enough to help you balance yourself. His eyes — his intense bluish orbs that you loved so much — were focused somewhere…

…as if he despised you for your question. _As if he despised himself for letting you think it._  

There was no reply from his part. He would not answer such a foolish question.     

_It’s hard being with someone you can’t trust._

There was a lot you did not know about him — that you could not trust regarding him. _His feelings for one._ However, you knew you could trust him to respect your choices. _Your boundaries._ He always did. So far, he may have led you on — grooming you for the role of Empress, readying you to face enemies… _his_ _enemies…_ that would fall over you like wild, hungry _banthas_ as soon as they learned of the nature of your relationship —, but he never forced you to anything.

If you said stop, he would stop.

If you said you were not ready, he would give you time.

If you said you wanted him… without titles or political schemes in the way, would he respect your choice? Would he stay with you?

You stepped closer to him, halting only after you were invading his personal space. His clenched his fingers, not sure of where to place his hands. But when you brought your hand to his neck, bringing his head down and brushing your lips against his, he promptly embraced you.

His lips fell over yours in an overpowering kiss. One of his hands moved from your waist to your hair, as he entangled his fingers in your tresses and parted your lips with his probing tongue. Once again, you felt your head spinning as you let him further deepen the kiss. You let him dominate it — dominate you — while you caressed his nape; your fingers buried in his always well-kept ginger locks.

The sheer force of the act had you crying. For everything that you had lost, for everything that the two of you would never be. _But_ _that you could have been._ The tears spilled from your eyes and slid down your face, making the already bittersweet kiss yet more bitter.

When he broke apart, placing his forehead against yours, you could not help but ask, “Will you stop your quest to be Emperor if I ask you to?”

He ran his thumb over your swollen bottom lip, preventing you from biting it. Shortly after, he was kissing you. You let him, kissing him back with all of your might, with all of your heart.

There was no need for an answer, because there, in his searing, passionate kiss, you had it.

It made you cry even harder. You were ready to give up almost everything to be with him — except for your ideals. And now, with his kiss — with his heart offered in a tray for you to either cherish or crush it — you knew the answer.

Armitage Hux would give up nearly everything for you as well.

_Except power._

*******

You could not stop crying.

Your head was buried in his chest as his hands wrapped around you. He kissed your temples lovingly — like he did back in the day when you could not help feeling guilty about lying to him. This time, however, there was no lies.

And the truth was even harder than the lie. It hurt even deeply.

“So sweet.” Aurra’s voice was heard in the night. _Day._ The sun was emerging in the horizon. “Are you two done here?”

The General cast a glance at her over his shoulder, but you could see nothing. Due to his height, you could not get a glimpse of her now diminutive stature. And you did now think you wanted to.

Neither deigned her with an answer.

He tightened his hold around you.

You stood still, trying to catch your breath after that searing kiss and the emotionally charged moment with him. You dried your tears, but the need to cry was still too great. _It was overwhelming, really._    

“If you are done,” she started, paying you no attention. You knew that you were ridiculous to her. Just a weak, useless girl. First falling for a member of the Resistance and now… now… falling in love with a General of the First Order who aspired to be Emperor. “Then, I think you’ll be able to meet the Healer. He said he would arrive in a few minutes.”

“He…?” You looked at the General. He brushed your tears away. “Isn’t the Healer a she?”

He said nothing, but his expression — open for no more than a brief second — told you enough. It told you all you needed to know.

Just like you, he did not know it.

“I hope you enjoy your surprise, General.”

He tightened his hold around you momentarily. It was obvious he hated being caught off guard. He, the one who played everyone… The one who always planned ahead… The one who made Aurra do the dirty job for him… _being outmaneuvered by Aurra herself…_

You cast a look at him, but this time his features denounced nothing. His face was perfect blank mask. When you realized that you would not get the answers you needed by looking at him, you shifted your attention to the person approaching.

It was a Twi’lek.

His face — part of you still prayed for a _she_ … for your heart knew what Aurra was playing at and you did not like it one bit — was obscured because of the shadows still untouched by the rising sun. _Yet…_ His steps were so familiar, you could not help but feel your heart accelerating.

Suddenly, it felt as if the organ was in your mouth.

As the sun highlighted the tall Twi’lek’s face, you felt all color leave your face. You tightened Amirtage’s hand.  

That man… walking to you, was no other than your late husband… the man you thought you lost five years ago. That you mourned and that you used as shield to protect you from your growing feelings for the General.

_That man was — is… — Aquilla Syndulla._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now... that's all for today, kids!  
> I really, really hope you like this chapter.
> 
> Like I said, I've been waiting to write this scene for ages and I don't really know what you will think about it. I can only hope the big reveal of this story live up to your expectations. It doesn't mean Lie to Me is ending... Even though I said it'll be 28 chapters, I think I'll need more to tell the story how I want to. But I don't think we'll go beyond 35 chapters. 
> 
> Now... something I want to address about this chapter... I know it's Hux is OOC here. And this time I intended for it to be so. I mean in the way he handles Reader regarding her choices. Personally, I don't think Hux would be respectful of someone else's boundaries or choices that disagreed with him/his beliefs and his ambitions. He doesn't strike as a person who ever cared for someone or even get the meaning of the word boundary. If he wants something, he'll get it/go after it, not matter how many he'll have to strike down and dispose in his path. He has shown that more than once in the canon. That said, I'm aware of how OOC he sounds here... And I'll explain it in later chapters (anonymous, you may remember one of our conversations about this topic), why he acts so if he probably wouldn't in the canon. 
> 
> That said... It doesn't mean Hux will stop his quest for power. It's something entirely different to force someone upon a path with you and not giving up on it because of someone you love... I hope you get that's my way of making it a bit more IC. 
> 
> Now, why am I saying this? Earlier, I received an ask for a fic with Dark!Hux, entailing a more possessive Hux that doesn't respect Reader's choices. I don't know if I'll answer the ask, because I don't want to shame anyone for their tastes, even if I don't agree with them. I'm saying it here because it comes with my explanation for why I wrote this chapter this way. The ask prompted me to keep a few things in mind while writing this chapter. It isn't like I'm not daring when it comes to my writing... It's that I've been through an abuse relationship before and I when I read/write a story I want to see portrayed someone that even though bad in the canon series can respect his partner's choices. That's why I have a HUGE problem with ABO and BDSM, finding very few of them truly satisfying. 
> 
> I think that is all. Anon, I really, really hope you don't resent me. And I hope you find an author that writes what you want. Sorry, but I can't be this author.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter xD
> 
> I'm already writing chapter 6 of In the General's Bed - Don't expect Bloodbound this week... If I get any time to update, it'll be chapter 21 off LTM and chapter 6 of ITGB.
> 
> Follow my tumblr to stay tuned for updates and to see the edits I make for my stories.


	21. Feeble & Strong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my darlings xD
> 
> Not gonna come up with yet another reason for my lateness, you know what it is: life.  
> It can be a pain in the ass. Suffice to say I had some trouble writing this chapter, like I said, I had no idea how to even start it.  
> But here it is and I hope it doesn't disappoint because it's 7k long. Longest chapter ever for this story and it's only 7k because I left two scenes out. Unable to decide what to keep and what to cast out, it took me longer than expected to update.
> 
> Now... I gotta say I'm really surprised with your response to last chapter. I'm really, really glad you liked the twist. Reading your reviews here and on tumblr really made my day. You have no idea. So... to everyone who took their time to review my last chapter (Anonymous, raekenrogers, IllegalCerebral, Ragnarsson, Emmy__Lou, cherryart, lyn, Navabi, EntranceToInfinity and Spacearistocrats) my biggest thanks. You guys rock! Thank you for every bookmark, every kudo, every hit, it means a lot. You have no idea! <3 
> 
> To all the people on tumblr: I love you too. I don't really remember all of you to mention your nicknames here. I'm afraid to leave someone out. Sorry xD
> 
> Trelaney this chapter is a gift to you. I hope you like it!   
> Anonymous, you probably will notice a few of our conversations here in this chapter, of your reviews, actually. Thank you for your support and encouragement. Lie to Me is what it is because of you. Love you <3 
> 
> Happy reading!

_ Hosnian _ _  Prime _

_ Thirteen Years Ago  _

SOON.

Armitage  Hux  thought to himself as he  dressed  his  teal uniform.  Next, he attached the belt with a polished buckle . 

“Soon,” he said in a firm voice as he  ran his  finger s  over  the  tight  collar  as if it would allow for  an  easier  breathing.  His usually  unblemished  skin was full of vanishing marks, courtesy of his father in one of his violent outbursts. 

He had a split  lip .  Even though the blood was dried now, it still burned like hell. He  controlled the urge to  run  his tongue over it and  applied some lip balm . Having left the sonic shower a few minutes ago,  his ginger hair  fell over his eyes in a messy fashion. He  slicked  the strands  back to perfection before taking a long, critical look at himself in the mirror. 

Self - confidence was something the thin, tall, awkwardly ginger  _ teen-recently-turned-into-a-man _  was still working on. He was short of it growing up and it was  completely  non-existent in his infancy  — if not for  Rae Sloane, he would have none whatsoever  until  now . 

At 21 years old, almost turning 22, the  Arkanisian  was groomed for  the  military role from a very tender age.  Yet, despite  his Academic Prizes — plenty; he was regarded as a genius very early — and his Military Prowess — he was developing in secret a more powerful, efficient and deadlier version of a Death Star — his father still found him a flawed, weak,  _ disgusting _  thing.

A mistake.

_ And… _

More often than not,  Brendo l Hux  punished him for it.

“Soon,” he repeated as he adjusted the  cufflinks  — a gift from Rae Sloane for his first high achievement in his adolescence. 

It all would come to an end.  _ Soon _ . He would get rid of his father.  _ Soon _ . He would take over his place.  _ Soon _ .

Becoming a General of the First Order was more than his birth right. He would prove to everyone that he earned the position. He would show them he was perfect for it. 

In a couple of years,  Brendol Hux  would be just a vanishing, pale memory. 

_ Soon.  _

In a couple of years, he would become the Supreme Leader of the First Order himself. 

_ Soon. _

He took a deep breath and left the room  Senator  Sindian  had  kindly offered him. Outside, in the  sitting room,  Brendol Hux  was waiting for him,  a  cigar  on his lips  as he stared  blankly ahead .  Armitage cleared his throat as he  he approached his father .  Yet,  Brendol  did not shift his attention to him.

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before the  Senator appeared with her brow furrowed.  She took off her gloves and  ran her hands over her hair, as if there was something terribly wrong with her perfect hairdo.  

“What’s wrong?”  Brendol  asked, his eyes narrowing.  He did not like the tiniest bit her behavior.

“Oh…” She turned on  her heels and stared at him, as if paying attention to her two guests for the first time. “There you are, General  Hux .”  She smiled in a  distant  manner. “Everything is… perfect. Just perfect.”

Armitage watched the interaction in silence, analyzing every  micro expression and cataloguing  them  for future uses.  He knew — and so did his father — everything was far from perfect . Something had happened, something that could hinder their plans. 

She took a deep breath, as if considering her options. Then, a small smile broke into her lips. 

“I am afraid our meeting will have to be delayed, General  Hux .”

“ And would  you  bother to share  reason,  Lady Sindian ?” Brendol  cast a look at his son, gauging his thoughts. It was obvious  the General  was rather displeased with  the recent  development ;  his son — a senior  officer — , on the other hand,  sported a blank expression. For some reason, the useless boy did not think it much of a problem.

Well, he  was  expecting too  much from  the  little bastard.  Rae Sloane had big plans for him.  _ Kriffs _ , she convinced him it was worth keeping that weakling alive. He cursed the day he listened to her.

If not for the strikingly resemblance,  Bredol  would have a harder time believing Armitage was his. It was difficult to believe he fathered such an average boy . Sometimes he wondered why he couldn’t be more like Cardinal — a  boy he rescued from a backwater planet; a stormtrooper,  yes, and yet more alike him than his own flesh and blood.

Car dinal worshipped the very ground he walked on, while Armitage wasn’t even good enough for that. It did not escape  Brendol  how he looked at him — how he got a hold of every single one of his creations and tried to turn it into something better; something greater.

It felt as if the bastard considered himself  above  him. In a completely different level. 

He even  thought  himself better at courting women. It did not escape  Brendol  how Armitage did not pay much attention to the fairer sex — he did not pay attention to other men either —; he was completely focused on his military achievements. But no son of  his  would get past  his twenties without engaging in men’s activities.

If Armitage could lose himself to the wonders of sex and the uselessness of love, the better for him.

And yet… Even at that the boy proved to be  lacking .  Prostitutes  were supposed  to be used, not respected. No woman was deserving of worship. When he saw Armitage offering a handkerchief to a beaten whore ,  h e went blind  for a second .

Not for the first time he noted the resemblance he bore to his mother. He was just like her.  _ Weak like her.  _ He  was weak because his mother was weak.  He was useless because she was useless.  It was in his blood.  And no amount of teaching would fix that. 

“The Emissary from  Rylot h has  an audience  with the Senate this afternoon.”

Brendol shook his thoughts away, but he still kept  silence.  Armitage, on the other hand, stepped closer, drawing  Carise’s  attention to him. She narrowed her eyes  at his appearance — there were bruises his uniform could not conceal; his  split  lip was a statement in itself. In spite of selling the image of  a proud father — he had fathered a  son that would  save the galaxy, the very symbol of the First Order grandiose  —,  the General hated  Armitage’s guts . 

The feeling, she gauged, was reciprocal.  In spite of her young age — Lady  Sindian  was approximately two years younger than  Brendol’s  son —, she was  pretty smart. Reading people and their feelings was something she learned quite early working in the Senate. After all, in order to pass  important  bills, she  would have  to  able to convince other Senators, reading them — tapping into their desires — usually did the trick. And the  Hux … Well… It was obvious their desire was to get rid of one another. But Lady  Sindian  also learned quite well her place and there were things she knew was not her place to comment. 

“ Is this kind of meeting usual?”

She promptly, replied, “No. Why?”

“ Was he debriefed?”

She furrowed her brows.  Brendol Hux  snorted.  “I believe  so,  yes… Rumor has it he has come to plead  for  Ryloth’s  safety. It may or may not concern their problem with the Syndicate.”

“And yet  Ryloth  refuses to join the New Republic.”

“They advocate for neutrality, yes,”  Carise  added. She nodded her head, her mind  full of possibilities.  “Something about not repeating past mistakes. I believe the Syndulla family has a lot to do with it.”

“Where are you getting at, Armitage?”

“Correct me if I am wrong, father .” The  contempt in his voice was not missed by  neither  in the room , which caused Brendol to narrow  his eyes. “B ut we are here  to ensure some of the Centrists’ loyalty to  the First Order.”

Brendol  nodded,  refusing to admit the reasoning had some merit. There was no need for Armitage to conclude his  thinking, for Senator  Sindian  put back  on  her gloves. The General rose to his feet as well.

“I believe we’ll have an exciting afternoon, General  Hux .” She  accepted giddily the coat the younger  Hux  offered to her. Her eyes  gleamed at the possibilities.  “ Did you know Aquilla Syndulla is  rumored to be engaged t o the daughter of one of our most prized Doctors back in the Empire ?”

When none of the men replied to her excited rambling, she continued, in a pensive fashion, “I...  I  can’t seem to  remember his name.  He was married to a member of the Royal family in one of  Berzite’s  moons.”

“Do you mean Quorr ? As in Donovan  Quorr ?”

“Yes.  This one!” She linked her arm s  to both men.  Armitage visibly tensed at the proximity with his father and how  the older man narrowed his eyes at him. The Senator, however, did not seem to pay attention. She  leaned conspiratorially towards the younger  Hux  and whispered,  “ And you know… I don’t believe Syndulla  has it in him to see  his  young  wife suffering  in yet another  Civil War if he can prevent it.”

Not sure of what to say,  Armitage kept his words to himself.

As they trilled the corridors of the Galactic Senate  together, she shifted her attention to  Brendol , even though she was  speaking to no one in particular. 

“Perhaps she will come with him. I would be delighted to meet the daughter of such a n  illustrious scientist.”

“How old is she now?”

“ Twenty? Twenty-two?” She shrugged. “I don’t know.  My age…  Armitage’s age… I think . Two years older or younger, give or take . All I know is that I’m dying to meet her. It’s not every day that you  get to  meet royalty.”

“ I thought you worked  with Senator Organa ,”  Brendol  pointed out  uninterested ly  — she was of royal blood herself —;  he had no time to lose with a girl who possibly could  not even remember her heritage or  knew  what to do with it. As it was, he already had  his useless son to deal with — not to mention a fussy senator representing his home planet; an honor she did deserve to begin with.  

“By  Royalty  I mean of a planet that supported the Empire. ” She  tightened her hold onto Armitage’s bicep, to which he  reacted with a sharp intake of breath. For a moment, she almost commented on it, but given his resolute stare, she thought best to let go. “ She has so much power running through her veins…  I can’t even  begin to image what I’d do with as much as half of her influence …”

As the three of them arrived at the  entrance of  the  Senate  Chamber ,  Lady  Sindian  disentangled from father and son and went on to greet a few of her peers.  Brendol  put a hand on Armitage’s shoulder , his cold, nonchalant eyes, focused on his son’s similar ones.

“You won’t be needed for this meeting.” 

Armitage even opened his mouth t o reply but gave up  quickly.  Instead, h e nodded.  A smug smirk tilted up his lips as soon as he turned on his heels.

He already knew that Senator  Sindian  had fallen for his weak  argument  and that she  firmly believed the Emissary from  Ryloth  could be swayed from his political views; persuaded to abandon neutrality and join the long list of planets loyal to the First Order. He knew better. What he did not expect was for his father to fall for that. 

The smirk  became more noticeable . It had been a while since he last  felt this  pleased . 

_ Soon.  _

He was this close of getting rid of his father  —  if  the old man continued to be blinded by his own arrogance, his dismiss would happen faster than he  could ever hope for .  

_ Soon. _

** *** **

You  squeezed  Armitage’s  fingers, feeling relie ved  when he squeezed back. Your eyes wandered from face to face.

Firstly, Aquilla’s. He had not chan g ed one bit. His almond eyes still held the same  calming glint to them.  But there was something else to it: surprise. It was obvious he did not expect to meet you.  Aurra’s face, on the other hand, had smugness written all over it. She  was  happier than ever to have caught the General off guard.  She had a mischievous — victorious even — smirk plastered over her face .  _ As for _ __ _ Hux _ _ … _  H is expression was hard to read . 

He let go of your hand and stepped back. 

For a the briefest of moments a displeased shadow took over his impossibly blue eyes, but he did not seem in the last surprised at seeing Aquilla Syndulla.

Your — late, but suddenly not late — husband.

You bit your bottom lip, not knowing what to do. Not knowing what to say.

_ For the Maker! _

T he n  it struck you.

They all knew it.  They tried to tell you all this time . 

_ …I know exactly what happened to the Syndulla boy… _

At first, it was Aurra Sing teasing you, because she wanted to see you suffer. She needed to put you in a place of subservience.   

_ …Well, if you ever want to know… _

Then it was Senator Organa, trying to make it up to her past mistakes; a debt she would never be able to settle. It was simply too late for that. 

_ …I know what happened to Emissary Syndulla… _

Finally… General  Hux . The man you called your husband for a few —  _ blissful _  — weeks. He had tried to tell you something, but in your desperation to cling to him, to what he made you feel, you ignored your own instincts.

He insisted. He said you should know.

But you did not need to know. 

_ You did not want to.  _

Because what could he tell you that would make it different? Knowledge would not change the past. On the contrary, it would only make it more painful to deal with.  You wanted to move on.

You needed to.

_ …You say you have moved on, but you’re actually afraid of being unable to… _

He was wrong.

He had to be wrong.

You closed your eyes and drew in a sharp breath. He was right.

He was  _ kriffing _  right.

As always. 

“(Y/N),” Aquilla said softly . His voice no more than a whisper.  _ A prayer _ . He pocketed his hands — a habit of his whenever he was unsure of himself, of his actions — as he approached you.

You r eyes snapped open. You  shook your head, horror written all over your face as you stepped back , trying to escape him. Trying to…  _ You did not know. _

Part of your brain did not register the fact he was there. In front of you.  Alive.

_ Alive.  _

You only stopped when your back met  the General’s chest. Apart from steadying you, he did  not touch you ;  his hands positioned in a respectable manner over your arms.

“Y/N… I—

“No! You’re dead! You died, Aquilla!”

You never saw he die, but after five years…  After so much time __ without a word, without any news, without…  it’s was just safe to assume he had died. The man you had married would never lie to you. Would he?

“I’m sorry.”

You did not realize you were crying yet again until you felt your throat closing as you tried to speak up. 

His words… His apology… Even the tone of his voice…  _ a whisper, _  for Aquilla rarely ever raised his voice…

It all filled you with rage.

You were angry.

With him.

_ With yourself. _

For mourning him, for pining after him for…  _ five years _ .

“Five years, Aquilla! Five  _ kriffing _  years!” 

“I—

“You can’t explain. ” You were shaking, your voice was raspy ,  and your throat was sore.  Hux  tightened his hold over you for a moment. If intentional  or  not, his gesture made you center yourself. The next words came out even, “I  don’t want you to explain.”

Aquilla released a deep breath, his eyes focused on the General’s. Both men stared at each other  intensely  for a second.

“Stay away from her.”

You were still so shocked with the whole thing, the possibility of them breaking into a fight did not cross your mind. And why would they?  This is not about them. It was about you.  _ About them lying to you _ .

There was no answer from the General’s part.  As expected. 

Did he ever lose  face ?

Did he ever  feel anything?  Something like  _ f _ _ ear _  gripping his heart … _ a _ _ nger _  consuming his entire being.  _ Despair? _

Did he ever—

You shook your head.  

At least he was not making it about himself.

You shrugged from his hold, stepping away. He let  you  go, but even through your blurry eyes you could see him flexing his fingers; his lips set into a thin line. He was having a hard time controlling himself.

_ A hard time not making it about himself. _

You retreated, putting some distance between you and the two men who continued to stare at you.

You cast a glance at Aurra, but she had vanished out of thin air. You thought — no, you knew — she was watching the interaction from afar, a sick smirk on her lips.

Running  your hands over your face,  you thought about what else you could say. Only to find nothing… And yet,  there was much to say.  The words escaped you. It’s just… you simply  could not bring yourself to  think of them right now.

As you looked at Aquilla, all you could think of was that he lied to you. He let you suffer.  He let you believe he was dead and that you were responsible for his death.

The crushing guilty was something difficult to deal even  now.. .  even after the General’s words. 

_ You didn’t choose between her and Aquilla as she firmly believes. You chose not to kill anyone. That’s different. _

All your life you thought that Aquilla’s dismissal was your fault. That he… That if you had chosen right, that if you had not been so weak, he would be alive. By your side.

How wrong you were !

And if not for the General you doubted you would ever be capable of moving on. But did you? Hux thought you did not . To him, you were always  in between, not completely stuck in your past, but not focused on the present and looking ahead to the future either.

Lastly, you focused your attention on the General.  All you could think of was that he  knew . _ He knew. _ And he led you on. He lied to you. He kept that vital information to himself.

_ Lying  _ _ bastard. _

“ _ Fre _ _ y _ _ k _ _ a _ _ a _ _ ,  _ please… Listen to me.”

You shook your head.  “No.”  You turned on your heel s .  You had to get away. You could not stand the  look of confusion Aquilla sported, but what hurt the most was the lack of expression on  Hux’s  intense eyes.  “ Stay away from me. ” As the words left your lips, you realized you were not saying them to your husband — the real one —, but to  the one  you had given your heart to in the last few weeks. “ Both of you.”

There was no need to look at  Aquilla to know  _ hurt _  was plastered all over his  face . 

You even heard his steps, he was coming after you.  _ For you. _  But he was intercepted.

As you ran in the still empty streets,  all  you could hear  was  the sound of your ragged  breath and  all you could  feel  was  the tears sliding your face. 

** *** **

“Tell me if it hurts.”  Her  voice dragged his attention back to  her . For the briefest of moments,  his  intense  blue eyes focused on  her face , before he looked away once again.

Given the session taking place in the Senate Chamber, the corridors were relatively empty.  Sitting on an ottoman, Armitage  Hux eyed a  _ holosculpture _  of his home planet , while  she  tended to him — besides a split lip,  she  found out he had a few broken ribs ; needless to mention the bruises his high-collared clothes could not conceal.  

He did not remember the last time he had been in  Arkanis , but he thought the artist captured the gloomy atmosphere of the rainy planet rather efficiently. Being more inclined to music than visual art, he would rather not analyze the piece in front of him. Not to mention, his father thought that literature, and specially non-fiction, was a higher form of art than any other — something related to how words could convince and indoctrinate where paintings could not. As soon as he learned that his bastard son fancied bass viol, he made sure to teach him an unforgettable lesson. 

She  shifted  her  attention, looking at  the  _ holoscu _ _ l _ _ pture _  with furrowed brows.  From her expression, he could tell she had never seen something quite like that .  It was not difficult to assume she was uncultured  when it came to art in general. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she  whispered to him.

Armitage was no fool.

He knew what  she  wanted to ask — what  she was  dying to ask; it was written all over  her  face  —, and how much  she  controlled  herself  not to overstep boundaries. As it is, it was already a miracle that  he accepted to be treated by  her  —  _ a stranger. _  He hated how  her  expression grew somber  as  she  spotted him  — a feeling he could not quite discern plastered all over  her  eyes.  The way in which  she  stared at him made him  rather aware of his appearance — of the vanishing marks and the split lip.

At first, he thought it was pity.

But he knew pity. And it was something the loud Senator  Sindian  regarded him with. This woman  stared at him differently. 

He shifted his attention to  her ,  eyeing  her  very expression attentively. She  seemed concentrated ;  bottom lip trapped between  her  teeth. 

“There’s no such artistic pieces back in  my home planet . ” She touched  his jaw, moving it slightly.  The glint in her eyes denounced she was  proud  of  her  quick work.  “I’m from Dantooine . Where are you from? ” In spite of  the  conversational tone,  he did not engage  her . His eyes focused somewhere gave  her  the chance to analyze him a bit more closely.

Armitage  could almost tell what was going through her mind. She was too easy to read.  And Armitage quite did not like what he was seeing.  He did not like that he saw sympathy — he did not need her sympathy. She knew nothing about him .

Placing his hand over hers, he removed  them  from his face.  For a brief second, their fingers intertwined. She smiled tensely and started  searching  something  in  her  bag .  When  she  found it — two vials with different substances —  she  placed them inside  his hand , closing his fingers around them.

“One of them contain  _ bacta _  and the other  _ vincha _  herbs. ” As soon as she finished talking, they heard the first few Senators leaving the Senate Chamber.  She bit her bottom lip  got to her feet.  “For tea.  It’ll  take the pain away and help you sleep … In case you can’t go to the  infirmary check your ribs, it is. ”

Then he realized it.

It was more than sympathy.

It was…  _ understanding. _  She knew what he went through and even though she wanted to question him ,  she did not. She knew he could not seek the infirmary and yet she did not judge him. Not once in her eyes he saw the disgusted look his father regarded him with. The looks Senator  Sindian  shot him ever since he arrived  — the look the whore his father  had hired a few days ago  gave him.

_ No. _

This woman in front of him did not think — and only the maker could know why —  him weak. 

He also rose to his feet. The height difference made him tower over her.  She bit her bottom lip and without casting as much as another glance at him, she turned on her heels and left. When she was at least ten steps away,  she looked over her shoulder at him and said, “ I’ve got to go, my fiancé is waiting me.  I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

Armitage stared  speechless  at her  retreating  form in the long corridor of the Senate building.  Before her sil ho uet t e could  disappear, several  more  Senators left the Senate Chamber, making it impossible — even with his height — to spot her in the crowd.   

She never asked for his name. 

** *** **

It was almost  night when you woke up to the smell of food.  Your stomach rumbled .  It had been almost  an entire day since you last ate something. Not to mention, you had drunk more  than appropriate — the very thought filled you with nausea ; you placed a hand over your mouth, waiting for the need to throw up  go away . 

After  a few minutes, you  sat down on the mattress and ran your hand over your face — even though you had not seen yourself in the mirror, you knew your appearance must be deplorable ; smeared make up, swollen eyes, messy hair…

For the Maker, could  this  week  get any worse?

As the sound of pouring liquid reached your ears,  you raised your eyes, only to faced with the General. He was pouring some water in a glass , his expression distant as he stared  outside .

“Why?”  you asked, more to yourself  than to him; your voice no more than a  strangled  sound . “Why are you here?”

It took him a while to shift his attention  from the windows and the  bright  _ holoposters _  gracing the sky outside  to you. He did not voice anything for a while and when he did, it was something that had  you furrowing your brows.

“You should eat.”

Your eyes moved from his face — his usual nonchalant expression was  replaced by a pensive one — to the  tray filled with food. As you smelled the fish and the typical  Cantonican  rice, you felt your stomach churning.

Covering your mouth, you ran to the refresher, where you emptied the contents of your stomach . 

Apparently, this week could get much worse. 

There was no time to  shut  the door behind yourself,  but right now, the least of your concerns was the General entering the  _ fresher _  and seeing you in  such  deplorable state.  It was a shameful situation, but suddenly, you did not care.  After all, h e had seen you in poorer situations  before.

You raised your head from the toiled and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.  Hux  was right behind you — and for the maker, you were glad he did not  kne e l by your side, nor held your hair…  _ like Aquilla would do _  —, offering you a  wet towel. In his left hand, he held a  bottle of water. 

Even though you thought about accepting the water, you did not  have enough time to even cast a longer glance at him. You doubled over the toiled,  spilling the rest of… — there was not much to be honest —  _ whatever _  was in your stomach. 

Your head throbbed. Your tongue was heavy… filled with a bitter taste that made you nauseous all over again. Your throat was sore, and your eyes burned with unshed tears.  

You had never regretted  having  alcohol  that much in your life before.

_ Kriffs! _

You knew that drinking that much was a bad idea.

And yet you did.

You knew that saving him was a bad idea.

And yet you did.

You knew that falling  for  him as a bad idea.

And yet…

_ … _ _ and  _ _ yet you did _ _ … _

It was with absolute horror that you realized that you were shaking — and sobbing.  The sound of it  was muffled by the cascading water coming from the sonic shower.  The General was right behind you , helping you to your feet.  With one arm around your  waist, he held you up .

“P-Please … ” you mumbled  meekly as he forced you to face him and hooked his fingers on the  fabric of your  blouse .  Not knowing what to do, you let him  coax you out of your clothes and guide you gently to the box.

As you entered the sonic shower, he handed you the liquid soap and turned on his heels.  Given your current state — how weak you felt —, you thought about asking for his help, but he words died in your mouth. You placed  a hand  on  the wall , in order to hold yourself straight . 

“How long have you known?”

Your voice was no more than a whisper — so weak…  _ you were such a wea _ _ kling _ _! _  — you  thought  for a moment that he  did not hear  you. Yet, he stopped ; shoulders squared. He did not look at you — you were not  even  sure you wanted him to.

“Have you always known?”  You bit  your bottom lip  as you waited for his answer — and,  _ maker, _  you hoped he did not leave you waiting this time. 

He took a while to reply …

_ … _ _ it was killing you. _

Your heart was beating in an unforgiving pace  against  your ribcages. Your blood was pumping quickly in your veins and your stomach was once again begging to be emptied out — except that, this time, there was nothing left to dispose of.

Sliding to the floor,  you felt the hot water hitting your back in an unrelenting manner.  Through your blurry eyes — and you did not know if it was from the water  hitting your lashes or yet more tears —, you saw as he, too, sat on the floor, but outside the box.

“I found out after that night in  the  bistro.”

His answer had your heart stopping for a brief moment, only to go back to that maddening rhythm shortly after.  The next question to come to  l ife in your lips  was one that you already had the answer for, but that you had to ask, nonetheless. 

“ Did you know he was the Healer?”

He shook his head.

“No.” He wetted his lower lip. “If I did, I would not let you near him.”

You could not help but  shudder. There was a…  latent  _ rawness _ in his statement, accompanied by such ferocity in his clear irises that  had you  hold ing  your breath.  He took the electronic cigarette from the  pocket of his jacket and brought it to his lips.

Part of you wanted to point out you were not his property to do with you  as he pleased. But you were sure he already knew that. His words had been purposeful, not out of  the blue . He meant what he said — and when he didn’t?  — and he would never take  them  back.  

His hatred for your late husband was not unknown to you. He made himself abundantly clear back in Dantooine. 

_ … _ _ I hated Aquilla. I have always hated him _ _ … _ __

And he never hid it was related to you …

_ … _ _ At first, for his popularity in the Senate, then because he had you _ _ … _

…b ut not only. 

Aquilla was… back then, everything Armitage  Hux  dreamed to be.  Eloquent, influential…  _ Respected. _  The entire Senate stopped to hear him, while the  Arkanisian  boy stood outside…  _ with you. _

Your eyes fell shut as flashes of him — of you, sitting together as you tended to him — crossed your mind. At first, he seemed bothered to have you — a stranger — tending to him —, but  as  you engaged him in  a __ conversation  — you talked and he listened,  _ how typical _  —, he relaxed under your fingers. And o nly when you stated you had to go, that your fiancé was waiting for you,  his impossibly  blue eyes darkened at your words. 

_ …he became my first enemy… _

You breathed deeply, readying yourself for the next question. The very thought of a positive answer made your heart beat in a frenzy pace.  Yet, it was not something you could simply dismiss. You had to know. And it had to be now. 

“Did you plan to have him killed?”

You could not bare if he was the one who forced the two of you apart. You could not stand the sight of him if he… If he tried to have your husband killed, so he could insinuate himse lf in your life. 

“No. ” His answer had you exhaling slowly. Suddenly, it felt as if a heavy burden was taken off your shoulders.  “ But the thought crossed my mind  more than once .”

At least he was honest. 

Your bottom lip quivered.

Part of you expected a different answer, part of you judged yourself for being so naïve. The General was not a saint, you knew that. He had killed a man in front of you — and only the Maker could know how many  in your back. 

If he had killed a man who posed little to no threat to him in cold blood, you could not imagine what he could do to an enemy. To someone he hated.  _ To Aquilla. _

Aurra knew that. 

She  _ kriffing _  knew that and she used it against him. 

You bit your bottom lip as you realized how much  Aurra Sing had played him — had played both of you  —  sending you in this  mission to  Cantonica  — now, you were not even sure your husband had the means to  provide a cure for the widespread sickness across the Galaxy. 

_ No.  _

Your head pounded at the thought.

She wouldn’t…  _ would she? _

Your head was spinning. You were sick once again — and yet, there was nothing left in your stomach.  I t hurt. Your head hurt. Your throat hurt. Everything  _ kriffing _  hurt. 

There was a minute or so of silence between the two of you.  Raising your head, you let the water cascade over your face, the hot droplets brushing your skin  relentlessly.  The water was getting cold, but you did not have any strength left to leave the shower.

You stared at him, hoping to find  his impossibly blue  orbs  fixed on you. Instead,  he was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed as he exhaled the smoke slowly. 

“I made a mistake underestimating Aurra Sing.”

His admission caught you off guard. You did not expect him to admit a mistake so easily . T hen you realized something you had  not before, t he  General never had a problem to admit his past mistakes, he never conceded defeat. That’s different.

He was simply saying he was wrong for having trusted Aurra. For underestimating her. Not saying he would stop whatever he was doing because of it. Having been played by Aurra so many times in your life, you quite admired him for his courage. In his place, you would have retreated by now. You knew her potential to destroy lives  — she destroyed yours, not only once or twice... Instead, the General was planning the next move. 

He was unafraid. 

_ He was not weak. _

He snorted.

“I know what you are thinking.”

This time, you snorted.

He always seemed to know what you were thinking.  You doubted he would be as good at reading you if he were a force wielder — or if you had actually learned something from Aurra when she  offered to teach you.  You did not know if you were  that predictable of if he were that good. 

“ You’re not weak.  Your feelings don’t make you weak. ”

He  turned off the electronic cigarette and rose to his feet. His eyes were intensely focused on yours as he  made his way to you. Biting your bottom lip, you stood on your shaky legs .

“Turn around,” he  said, not unkindly. Not knowing what to say or what to do, you did as he said . “I have  let  you  sink  in your self-pity for too long .” His serious tone, combined with how he tugged your hair  back, made you inhale sharply.  The tears  ran down your cheeks, mixing with the already  freezing water  jets.  

Next, he was washing your strands  using both of his hands to massage your scalp. You let your lids fall shut for a moment,  trying to control your breathing  — as if it would somehow help you keep your messy emotions in check. 

You resented his words. 

_ …s _ _ ink in self-pity _ _ … _

Part of you wanted to  spit in his face and ask how he dealt with his traumas when he still cried his father’s name in his feverish dreams.  The sane part of you knew you had no right to hurt him like that — the mere thought made you hate yourself. 

It filled you with disgust.

To hurt other people by using something of their past against them that they had no fault or choice to begin with was the  way of the weak. 

You wanted to be better than that. 

A gasp left you when he left go of your hair and wrapped a hand around your throat. The movement left you unbalanced, so you took a step back, your back meeting his chest.  You placed one hand over his, trying to pry his fingers apart and the other on his  forearm, to steady yourself. Your fingers met damp  fabric.  His dark dress-shirt was completely soaked.  

“Tell me what you’re thinking. ” He whispered against your year, his grip tightening around your throat. “ Tell me you hate me.”

You wanted to tell you hated him.

_ Kriffs! _

You wanted to hate him.

But you did not.

_ You could not. _

“Your feelings don’t make you weak, (Y/N).” He let go of your throat , his hands slithering to your shoulders to keep  you  in place. “ Denying them —  e specially the bad ones — do.”

You brought both hands to your face and shook your head. 

He was wrong.

You were not denying the bad feelings, you were simply not acting on them. There was a difference.

He could not be right. 

You did not know anymore. 

“The fact that Aquilla Syndulla decided  to leave you  is not your fault . However—

“Stop it!”

Your raised voice made him inhale sharply against your ear. 

It felt as if he was reading right through you. The fact that he wanted  to make you face your feelings made your feel nauseous. You were simply not ready for that. Right now, all you wanted was to  wallow in self-pity and be damned the rest of the galaxy outside. 

“I don’t wanna hear it. Leave me alone!”

All you wanted was to feel weak.

To be weak.

_ …I can’t be what you want me to be _ _ … _

He thought  that you were strong than you were. He thought you capable of dealing with  politics. And look at you, you could not even deal with your ex-husband… No,  _ your _ _ husband… _  you did not know anymore.

Armitage brought his hand back to your throat, forcing you to pay attention to your breathing and to him. You were once again sobbing pathetically. 

“ But it is your responsibility how you deal with it.”

He stepped  turned off the  sonic shower  and stepped away to grab  a fresh towel . When he returned ,  you were shivering. He wrapped it  around your  shoulders, drying your  skin gently. Slowly, and still feeling too weak, you followed him out of the refresher. 

The room was bathed in darkness , you quickly noticed. You could barely see anything. He moved away from you and turned on the lights , before returning with another towel to dry your hair .  You were grateful for the dim  lights  — you did not think you could stand  looking at  a brighter environment.

He guided you to sit on the bed, where he took his place behind you and started  drying  your hair.

“ You should remove your shirt before you get sick,” you said  when you finally found your voice. It came out in a low tone, but not broken anymore. 

_ It was a relief. _

As  expected, Armitage gave you no answer. You sighed as he handed you  the towel and left the bed. You followed him with your eyes downcast as he removed his  dress-shirt.  When he returned to you,  he offered you a glass with water.

You mumbled a low  _ thank you _ __ and brought it your lips  — t he water felt like a balm to your sore throat. 

“Aurra Sing may have played the two of us ,” he started as he  approached the  windows. It went from floor to ceiling, giving an ample view of the city. He folded his arms at his nude chest, his back to you.  “ B ut she still needs you to get the cure.”

You looked at him incredulously.

“Does she?”

You did not think she did.

He got to be hallucinating. Aurra Sing never needed you for anything. 

“Aquilla Syndulla will not hand the cure over to anyone besides you.”

You  shook your head. 

You did not like where this conversation was headed.

You did not  want to face your late — not to so late anymore — husband anytime soon.

You did not think you were ready to think about him, let alone  _ talk  _ to him.

“What’s  going to happen, (Y/N)?”  Hux’s  voice dragged you from your thoughts. Your head snapped in his direction.  “Are you going to do what you came here to, or you’re going to leave empty-handed?”

You bit your bottom lip. 

_ …your feelings don’t make you weak… _ __

All your life people thought you were weak. Aurra thought you were weak. Aquilla thought you were weak — he would never leave you behind if he thought you could handle yourself.  _ Kriffs! _  You thought you were weak yourself!

_ …d _ _ enying them do… _

The General was looking at you over his shoulder. H is impossibly blue eyes completely focused on you. 

Only one person in your life did not think you weak.

All this time, Armitage  Hux  saw  right  through your weakness  — he helped you build a thicker shell; he taught you to defend yourself, to control your feelings, to let go of your guilty… he helped you to face your fears…  _ t _ _ o move on _ _  —  _ but he never thought you weak. To have weaknesses and to be weak were too things entirely different.

_ …never let them know your weakness. It will only give them the means to exploit you… _

He  never said you could not have them. 

_ Kriffs! _

He even  admitted to having them. He said  _ you _  were his weakness. 

_ …I said I wanted you as my wife. And I did… I still do. But I doubt I would ever go against  _ _ the First Order’s rules. I did. That makes you my greatest weakness… _

Holding the  towel firmly over your body, y ou rose from the bed  and made  your way towards him slowly.  He unfolded his arms and removed a strand of hair from your face. You half expected him to remove his hand altogether from your face. You were glad when he did not.

He caressed your bottom lip with this thumb,  “Aurra Sing did not use my feelings for you against me. ” Your breath  got  stuck in your throat as the next words left him. “She used my arrogance. That’s  different. ”

With that, he let go of yo u.

Your head was full.

So much had happened in the last two days — has it already been two days? — your mind was spinning.  You drew in a sharp breath and pressed the towel more firmly against your body,  until your fingertips went white. 

You opened your mouth once and twice… only to close it afterwards. You bit your bottom lip and tried again, drawing in  every and each ounce of courage lying dormant within you. It was with some surprise that you discovered that you had some.

“Comm Aurra,” you told the General, catching him off guard. He regarded you with something akin to pride.  _ Respect.  _ “ Tell her I want to see Commander Syndulla tomorrow.”

You may not see in yourself the strong woman the General saw in you yet, but for the first time, as you looked at your reflection in the gigantic windows, you did not see a pathetic, feeble  thing anymore.

And for that, you were grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I think that's all?   
> I think it's already a pretty much big chapter, so I'm sorry for the length, but I couldn't work all the feelings and emotions and all the psychological part without using so many words. I sincerely admire those authors who convey a lot without so many words. 
> 
> Now, I know this chapter is lacking when it comes to Aquilla's pov. I'd have scene in his POV this chapter, but it'd I decided to leave for the next installment. Same about Aurra. For this chapter, I tried to focus on the idea of feebleness and strength in both Reader and Hux, hence the scene with Brendol and Senator Carise Sindian. I hope I did Brendol Hux some justice. There'll be a continuation later of that scene... another interaction between father and son and you'll see if Brendol fell for Armitage's tricks or not. I just wanted to convey the feelings of weakness and how Brendol saw his own flesh and blood and how it molded Hux's mindset later. 
> 
> About Carise, she's and she's not the same character of In the General's Bed. Here, I remained true to the canon and kept her age. According to the wookiepedia, she's born +/- 02ABY, which means she's about 02 years younger than Hux. In my Regency story she's an older woman, about Rae Sloane's age. 
> 
> The time frame may seem a bit... well, weird. Reader is engaged to Aquilla 13 years before the events of today in this story, but they were married for only 2 years before he disappeared. I admit it's my fault, cause when I started this story, I hadn't read both Phasma and Bloodline novels, which helped shape a lot of this story... I'll fix it and explain what happened later in another flashback. 
> 
> Also, thank you for your understanding regarding my characterization of Hux. I cannot express into words how much it means to me.  
> You guys rock. I love each and all of you <3

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, welcome to the first chapter of Lie to Me. This fic will be updated once a week, fifteen days at most.
> 
> I just wanted to tell it's based on 2016 kdrama "Goodbye Mr Black", which started very good but was not handled very well. It's canon divergence and starts off before the ending of TFA. It'll follow the events of TLJ, but not right now. 
> 
> Hux will be OOC in the first chapters. Sorry xD but it has to be done. Sometimes his demeanor will resemble that of Domhnall's 2013 movie "About Time", if you guys haven't seen it, please do xD 
> 
> Follow me on my tumblr: nymphl, there you will see more about this fic and the gifs I enjoy making for my stories! 
> 
> It'll probably be a Explicit story, but right now I won't rate it, because it won't happen in these very beginning xD


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